Boys Over Toys
by NihonBara
Summary: When Alfred F. Jones transfers to Hetalia High, a school for the rich and powerful, he soon finds himself standing up to Ivan Braginsky. The one guy not even the teachers can mess with. However, now Ivan is crushing on Alfred in the creepiest ways possible. (Based on "Boys Over Flowers". Gakuen Hetalia)
1. Fresh Meat

(I've been sitting on this. It's not writer's block. I know where I'm taking this story. It has its own original ending from the dramas and manga. It's just I've not been feeling like writing the past couple weeks. So I thought I'd get out the part's that's ready.)

* * *

 **Boys Over Toys**

* * *

 **Prologue**

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago Eduard Von Bock had _not_ been running for his life. That his day had been normal. That he had been still unaware of the dreaded red card waiting in his locker, ready to be discovered upon opening.

Now a mob of his peers pursued him down the dark wood-paneled hallways of Hetalia High School. His dark blue blazer — once a symbol of pride for him with the school logo stitched in gold thread on the left breast — was caked in flour and drying egg yolk, as was his darkly-colored hair. The left lens of his square-framed glasses had cracked when he had slipped and hit against a locker in his scramble to get away. If they caught him, blood would also decorate his uniform.

In his left hand he held a mop — his only weapon — acquired from his run through a classroom. It would not stop them all, but it was all he had.

As he rounded a corner, his heart sank to see a group of students at the end of the hall. He saw the realization in their eyes and the growing smile on their lips. Rather than be surrounded, he threw his momentum sharply right and up the stairs, taking advantage of his long-striding frame to ascend several steps at a time.

They howled in protest, but they were too late.

He flew around the steel door leading to the roof, slammed it shut, and rammed the mop through its handle and the hook on the wall — one likely used to padlock the door shut.

He backed away, panting for air. His fear-riddled brain could only react. A small gasp escaped his lips when the students threw themselves at the door, beating at it, snarling for him to open it.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, sliding his loafers backwards across the asphalt of the roof. He clutched at his stomach, wanting to throw up, feeling sick with horror. "Go away!"

A few chuckled as they continued to hit the door. The mop handle started to crack. He spun around, searching for escape and saw the enormous cooling tower on the opposite corner. There could be a fire escape!

He ran in what felt like the slow motion of a nightmare. Eduard heard the mop snap in two, the door fly open and dozen of feet spill out after him.

Above flew a black crow in the blue sky, peacefully unaware of the violence about to take place below. Of the monster coming for him.

 _Please! Please!_ He begged, only to find nothing behind the tower but a corner of the roof and the courtyard below.

Students stared up, tiny figures, waiting eagerly for the show. Before he could attempt to climb onto the grey clay tiling, hands seized him and dragged him back. He struggled and shrieked as they carried him by his arms and legs.

They took him to the center of the roof and forced him to his knees, pinning his wrists behind him. His face was forced upward when someone grabbed the hair on the back of his head, almost tearing it out by the roots. Hot blood pounded in his temples.

"Please, please, please don't do this!" He pleaded. They only laughed. He recognized a couple class mates who once upon a time had smiled and greeted him.

No one in this school had a heart.

The crowd split apart for the true monster: Ivan Braginski.

A mountain of a senior whose large, blocky head was capped by ash-blond hair like snow on a tall mountain. He moved as if in no hurry, patting one end of his faucet pipe — an item no teacher dared confiscate — against one palm while his violet-hued eyes regarded Eduard.

The small smile on his pale lips was cruel; the smile of a predator delighting in the cruel torment it would soon unleash on his prey. He giggled, sending a chill through Eduard's insides.

"Pl-please…" Eduard sobbed, snot running down his upper lip, tasting salty in his mouth as it mixed with his tears. "F-forgive me. It was an accident."

Ivan's smile widened, but revealed none of those pearl-white teeth. His eyes held nothing. They were dead and empty of life as the sockets of a skull. This was a man who had everything, the son of "General Winter", one of the most ruthless business woman on the planet. She was the cold-hearted owner of multi-billion dollar company, Winter Corporations.

That was why Hetalia High's one rule was never piss off Ivan. Only he and his underlings, the Bad Touch Trio, could defy the rules, only they never wore uniforms. Ivan always wore, as now, his long brown coat and pale brown scarf.

"You are forgiven," Ivan said coldly. A mad glee overtook his eyes, one that consumed the features of his face. A face girls swooned over.

For a moment Eduard felt a hopeful flutter, crushed when Ivan lifted his pipe. "No! Don't!"

And Ivan swung downward, connecting with a brutal crack.

* * *

 **A Couple Months Later**

* * *

Alfred caught glimpses of his new school, Hetalia High, between the autumn-tinged foliage of the trees. It stood proud atop this really steep hill that his dirt bike — Tony as he called it — crawled up. He pumped the pedals up and down, standing over the bike's fork.

His thigh muscles worked; sweat dripped from the ends of his straw-colored bangs, one particular gravity-defying curl drooped a little more than usual. He ground his teeth, grunting as he refused to walk the bike.

A continues stream of limos and expensive-looking cars zipped by along the curving road, taking no care of Alfred on the shoulder. More than a couple times he had almost been clipped.

As tough as the hill was, Alfred looked forward to speeding down it after school. The wind would blow in his face and he would feel as if he was flying. It was something his father, Tino, and his twin brother, Matthew, would never approve of. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

They had never been prouder than when Alfred received his letter telling him he had received a scholarship to Hetalia High — a school for the elite. It was an honor to go and he had been selected as one of their "underprivileged" enrollments. Something about a sudden opening.

He knew deep down it was his essay about changing the world through heroic deeds that got him in. Matthew had called him crazy, but he had been bold. One should never be afraid of risks.

His white T-shirt clung to his chest. His blue hoodie wrapped around his waist and the fabric of his red jogging pants swished he moved his legs.

Perspiration dripped form his round chin and stung his eyes. His glasses kept slipping down his straight-bridged nose to rest on the tip. Luckily, he had a band around his neck that prevented them from falling off. They were his only pair since his last broke. He had named them Texas because they made him feel like Superman hidden as Clark Kent.

"C'mon, Tony," he said.

Tony was a BMX bike with a big grey alien-shaped bumper sticker slapped over the GT logo of its triple triangle frame. He didn't care if Tony was older than him, had rust in places, and had seen better days. They belonged together. Tony suited Alfred's broad-shouldered frame perfectly.

At last the tree line opened into a a clear view of the fabled school crowning the hill top. It was a place befitting a king, a series of colonnaded buildings with clay-tiled roofing and grecian designs. He had to crane his neck to stare, reading the the unsaid message: _You are beneath me._

Alfred grinned, eager to explore his new school that he had transferred to as a junior. In the brochure it said there was an observatory and Alfred couldn't wait to see that. Astronomy was a hobby of his.

Riding up to the high arch gate with a small white guardhouse on either side, from which a guard waved the cars through, lifting the barrier each time, Alfred braked. A bronze sign to the side, affixed to the wall, read: _Hetalia School For the Gift, a place for the exceptional to achieve the exceptional._

A guard came out, chubby and grey-haired, in a blue uniform that strained in places, as if he'd been thinner when he first started wearing it. He eyed Alfred up and down, patting the night stick at his hip.

"All right, are you making a delivery?" the officer asked, Billy by what his gold name tag said.

"Nope," Alfred said, putting on his most charming grin. "I'm a new student. Just transferred in."

"New student?" the guard said skeptically, then his thick, bushy eye brows went up his wrinkled forehead. "Oh let me guess, an underprivileged transfer?"

Alfred nodded. "Yup, that's right."

"Where's your uniform?"

"Right here," Alfred said, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he reached around to pat the black duffle bag tied to the top of his bike's vender. "I didn't want it to get all sweaty. I heard there were showers in the gym so I figured I'd get here early, check in, and rinse off and change."

"You bike all the way here?" Billy said in shock. "From the city?"

"Well, it's not so bad," Alfred said defensively. "I take a bus some of the way. The driver is real nice and lets me take my bike on."

"No one can drive you?"

"My family doesn't have a car. Ours broke down last year," Alfred said, reluctant to admit they couldn't afford the repairs. Berwald, his stepfather, had been tinkering with it and trying to repair it through parts he bought online.

"I see," Billy said. "What was your name?"

"Alfred F. Jones," he said proudly. Jones was the name his fathers agreed on when they moved to the US.

"Ah, the Jones kid," he said. "Do you have your student card?"

"Um… do you know where I can find administration," Alfred said, digging out his leather wallet from his backpack and flashing his ID before he was waved through.

"It's the first building you'll see at the end of the lane," he said pointing a cobble-stone lined drive lined by neatly-manicured treats with a marble statue set between each. At the very end was a large grecian building with pillars at the front and a fountain.

"Thanks," Alfred said and started to take off when the guard said one more thing that caused him to stop.

"Word of advice, kid. Keep your head down when you're in there. They'll sniff out your _status_ like blood hounds. Don't take it too hard. And don't make enemies."

"Who couldn't love me?" Alfred joked and waved before heading off.

And yet he couldn't shake the nervous tone in the guard's voice. He sounded afraid of something.

* * *

TBC… "A Fist To The Face Puts A Bully In His Place"

Summary — Alfred makes a friend, Toris, and finds himself taking a stand against Ivan. But that's just the beginning of the trouble as Ivan becomes enamored.

* * *

( **Note** — You'll find out later what happened to Eduard.)


	2. The Iron Quartet

**Note -** Still in a writer's slump. Little energy to write. However, I did get this next update out. And I'm really close on that Omega Fairy story. I really like the direction of this story. It's got so much tension and drama to come.

* * *

 **The Iron Quartet**

* * *

Lost was an understatement for Alfred's situation.

With a frustrated sigh, he once again looked at the clipboard with his schedule and map — a map that he swore looked more like a sketch of pasta. In fact, the Pangea Building — what he sought — looked very similar to a meat ball.

He questioned what had been on the secretary's mind when he drew this in the Administration building. That Feliciano had kept mentioning pasta while explaining things to Alfred.

At least Alfred had found the gym and his locker. After showering and changing into the blue blazer and plaid pants of his uniform, he stowed his duffle bag and now only lugged around his backpack.

"Not again," he groaned, exiting the the Grecian-style building to once more find himself in the same lavish courtyard of neatly-trimmed hedges, flower beds, and trees that was interspersed with cobbled walkways. A place he had already wandered into three times from three different directions.

A set of high-pitched giggles turned his attention to three girls crowded together on the marble edge of the courtyard's centerpiece: a fountain. One from which four white horses leapt from its center, spitting water as cherubs floated beneath their hooves.

The girls wore heavy make-up and had hiked-up their plaid skirts. They were takings selfies with a selfie stick and make various faces.

Slapping on his best grin, he approached and said, "Morning, ladies. I was wondering if you could help me…" he trailed off as their smiles turned to scowls. They eyed him up and down like the T-1000 scanning, their gazes lingering on his scuffed brown leather loafers, his cheap wristwatch and non-brand name glasses.

With a loud and unified sniff, they stood up and walked off, leaving Alfred feeling more self-conscious than he ever had in his life. What was so wrong with not being rich?

A knot of frustration welled inside him and he kicked a loose rock hard. It flew through the air and a rose bush. There was a loud yelp and he panicked, running over, calling, "Oh man, I'm sorry! Did I hit you? Are you okay?"

He gaped as he came around the rose bush to find a slender-framed man sitting on a marble bench under an oak. He was holding his left shoulder and staring at Alfred in surprise with his deep-set, green eyes. There was an aura of shyness about his narrow, plain face. His light brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. On one side of him was a green thermos and on the other was an open packet of saltines.

"Dude, you all right?" Alfred asked, rushing over. "I'm really sorry. I was lost and I got frustrated. It won't bruise, I hope."

The boy's thin eyebrows lifted as Alfred touched his hand and tried to peek under his blazer. He scooted away and Alfred let go, noticing the boy's faint blush.

Finally, the boy asked softly, "It wasn't on purpose?"

Alfred frowned. "No, why would it be?"

"Are… are you new here?"

"Uh, yeah. Just arrived today. Alfred F. Jones at your service," he said, sticking out his hand and grinning.

The boy _stared_ at him and suddenly came out of his stupor and took Alfred's hand, eyes widening at the vigorous shake.

"I-I'm Toris Laurinaitus."

"Nice to meet ya, Toris! Can I call you Tory?"

"S-sure." The boy stood up, dusting crumbs from his lap. In a very soft voice, he whispered, "You have a nice smile."

"Pardon?"

"O-oh, did I speak out loud?" Toris said, clapping his hands over his cheeks. "Y-You said you were lost. I could show you around."

"Really?" Alfred said, lighting up. "That would be awesome!" He almost dragged Toris into a bear-hug until he remembered the bruised shoulder. Showing Toris the map, he asked, "Do you know where the Pangea building? I need to find my history class?"

Toris took the clipboard, a furrow creasing his brow. "Is this a drawing of pasta?"

"You see it as well! Its supposed to be a map!"

"Ah, Feliciano's working today." Toris nodded in understanding.

A loud whirring noise above broke their conversation and Alfred looked up, glimpsing between gaps in the canopy a black helicopter flying by overhead.

"Is… that Star Flight or something?" Alfred asked.

"N-No, that's erm… one of the students arriving."

"By helicopter?!" Alfred gaped, almost falling over. "You serious? Who arrives by helicopter?"

"Ivan does. A word of warning. Stay out of Ivan Braginiski's way no matter what. He is the de-facto leader of this school."

"How come?"

"Because his mother runs Winter Corporations. They call her General Winter," Toris said, staring sadly at the clipboard, as if troubled by something.

"Wait… Winter Corporations. He's the heir to _the_ Winter Corporations."

"Indeed," Toris said with a nod.

Alfred gave a whistle. "The students here are nuts. Well, I ain't afraid of bullies. I've been standing up to them my whole life. They're all the same. One good punch to the face and they go down. They're just cowards at heart. Most made the mistake of picking on my brother."

"I don't know how things worked where you came from. But here, don't mess with Ivan or his friends," Toris said, touching Alfred's arm, his voice full of concern and warning.

"What will he do? Get me expelled?"

"He'll make you wish you were never born."

* * *

By lunch, Alfred and Toris were almost inseparable. Toris seemed as happy as Alfred to have a friend — as if one outcast had befriend another.

While filling in Toris on his love of UFO stories and the video games he would buy if he had money, they entered the cafeteria and Alfred fell silent.

He gaped in awe at the masonry of Hetalia. This room, aside from its posh cosmetics, was fireproof, built almost entirely of brick, marble, and stones. The room was furnished with expensive, custom-made marble-topped black walnut furniture and decorated with paintings of aristocrats from various eras of Europe. The floor had rose-veined marble and a nearby staircase led up to a balcony. Its stairway had a red rope blocking entry up the wide steps and gold-plated railing. A chandelier hung above, casting a golden light on the room.

Was this a ball room or an eating area?

The seating capacity looked big enough for at least two hundred. There were butlers and maids darting in and out of a kitchen carrying silver trays with bowls of soups and various dishes.

Dozens and dozens of round tables with white silk clothes and sets of golden silverware and crystal glasses were everywhere. Most were half-filled. Toris grabbed his sleeve with his thumb and forefinger and pulled Alfred one way, saying, "Over here."

So lost in staring, Alfred hardly noticed Toris pull out his chair as he sat down. "There's a menu?" Alfred gasped, picking up the red leather menu with gold imprinted letters on the front. Inside were french words. "I can't read it."

"Oh, it doesn't matter. They'll bring you a full course. I recommend the pasta one."

"No hamburgers?" Alfred asked, feeling downcast.

Suddenly, music began to play and he twisted around in his seat, jaw falling open as red velvet curtain lifted to reveal a stage where a small orchestra began playing soft music.

"You're kidding," Alfred said.

"They didn't have music at your school?" Toris asked, sounding surprised.

"Not that like that," Alfred said. "And they did't have paintings and sculptures.

After their order was taken and their food brought, Alfred found himself listening to Toris prattle on about art and literature. When suddenly, loud cheering broke out from the entrance and everyone left their seat, clustering there.

"What now? Don't tell me Johnny Depp's visiting," Alfred said sarcastically.

"Oh that was a couple months ago," Toris said and Alfred slapped a palm against his forehead. "I guess Ivan and his minions, the Bad Touch Trio are visiting today."

"That Ivan fellow again?" Alfred said, standing up.

"What are you doing?" Toris asked, standing up as well and depositing his table cloth on the cushion. "Don't go near."

"I just want to look," Alfred said, crossing the room and weeding through the screaming crowd. Girls jumped up and down.

Toris stayed close to him and whispered behind him. "Al… this is dangerous. They're volatile."

Then the crowd thundered as a very handsome man with an slightly-unshaven look entered. He flicked his long, blonde hair and adjusted his elaborate blue cape and coat before winking and blowing kisses at the crowd.

"He's not wearing a uniform. Is he a teacher?" Alfred asked over his shoulder, having to half-yell to be heard.

"None of them wear uniforms. The rules don't apply to them," Toris said. "That's Francis Bonnaparte. He flirts with everyone and on Valentine's day goes streaking across the school."

Alfred slowly craned his head back to stare at Toris with an arched eyebrow. The man shrugged.

"He always wears french brands and his father is Louis Bonnapart."

"Wait… the Iron Chef?" Alfred gasped and Toris nodded. "Wow."

Matthew and Tino would be jealous. His father's show was their Sunday routine.

"Be careful. He's bisexual and will grope anyone he finds attractive."

Just as Toris said that, Francis's eyes set on Alfred and he smirked, blowing Alfred a kiss that Alfred felt a need to dodge. Then Francis continued on, removing the velvet rope as he climbed the stairs.

Next strolled in a white-hair albino in a green coat with many buckles and tight designer-cut jeans. He had a cocky grin and what had to be colored contacts. His ears were pierced with silver studs. Beside him was an olive-skinned, equally attractive man with a red coat and tight black pants. He carried a can of tomato juice that he kept sipping from.

"Who're they?" Alfred asked.

"The albino is Gilbert. I always forget how to say his last name. His father is Old Fritz. Have you heard of the band 'On the Fritz'?"

"Have I?" Alfred almost shouted, wide-eyed. "Holy shit? You serious? His dad is a rock god. Mattie gonna be so jealous. And him?"

"That's Antonio. There are rumors that his family is in the wine business, but other's say the mafia. The less you ask. The better."

If the crowd had been loud before, the thundered as in Alfred saw a man who could only be described as Alfred's wet dream come to life. While his family knew of Alfred's _preferences_ , Alfred had never seen a guy in real life he would actually say he was attracted to. Matthew always said Alfred was too picky. Now his type had taken form and strolled in a long brown coat with a light-brown scarf.

"Ivan Braginsky," Toris breathed close to his ear, barely audible above the crowd. "If he brings out his pipe, you're in trouble."

Pipe? Alfred wanted to ask, but he was too lost in staring. He wondered if the pipe was a euphemism of some sort. He couldn't believe the school let someone carry around a pipe. At his previous school the staff at least attempted to confiscate weapons from the gangs.

Those violet eyes were under hooded eyelids that gave Ivan a bored look. Yet there was something so empty in that gaze that when it touched on Alfred and lingered there for a moment he felt rooted to the spot. His breath caught. Heart speeding up. How could someone look so beautiful, yet have such soulless eyes.

He looked like a man whose heart fell out long ago and he left it behind.

Ivan suddenly stopped and his hand shot out, grabbing the boy a foot from Alfred and dragged him out of the crowd by the front of his shirt. Everyone fell silent and watched intently.

"You have three seconds," Ivan said coldly. Then, to Alfred's horror, he giggled, pale lips curving up in a smile.

"I-I'm sorry," the boy begged. He was a scrappy thing with acne on his face and red-hair.

"One," Ivan said.

People smiled to Alfred's disgust.

"Two," Ivan said, eyes darkening.

"Pl-please. What did I do?"

"Three," Ivan said and shook his head. "Antonio. Your juice."

He held out a hand. Antonio looked annoyed and Francis stared from halfway up the stairs and gave an eye roll. Antonio came over and handed Ivan the can.

Then Ivan stepped back and upturned the contents all over the boy, red liquid running down his face and onto the shoulders of his blazer. He tensed, lowering his head in shame.

Alfred's hands curled and fists. He was about to say something when Toris caught his wrist. Glancing behind him, he saw Toris mouthing, "no" and shaking his head. Then he thought of Matthew and Tino. He couldn't get into trouble his first day, could he?

Ivan smiled and dropped the can. "Clean yourself up," he said and continued on up the stairs, as if nothing had happened.

The crowd dispersed, people snickering at the boy who stood head bowed and finally he ran off in tears.

Alfred continued to stand there in shock, finally letting Toris tug him back to the table. He sat in a daze and finally snapped, "What the hell was that?"

"That was Ivan Braginski. And he cab do whatever he wants," Toris said.

Suddenly, Alfred felt something was seriously wrong with this school and that kid Ivan. He felt ashamed that he, the Hero, had just stood there.

But he didn't want to get kicked out.

Yet… he shuddered remembering that cold look in Ivan's eyes. The man looked dead inside.

* * *

TBC in... "A Fist to The Face Puts A Bully In His Place"

I couldn't get to that part in this chapter as I had hoped. Next time for sure though!

* * *

Instead of the Flower 4 like in the comic, I used "Iron Quartet". For the joke, look at the acronym that makes. ;)


	3. A Fist To The Face, A Bully's Place

**Note -** So many reviewers to thank! I'll have to do all that next update. The view count is amazing on those two chapters. It's almost 700! I've gotten so much wonderful feedback. I hope this keeps up the momentum of the story. There is a hint of philosophy mentioned because that comes later since Alfred and Ivan have very opposed beliefs. Perhaps they'll find a way to understand one another?

* * *

 **A Fist To the Face Puts a Bully In his Place**

* * *

Since class let out early that day, Toris took Alfred on a tour of the campus. After a quick stop for ice cream at the cafeteria, both began ascending the highest hill on campus to the Observatory.

Gulping down the last of his ice cream scone, Alfred said, "I can't believe how much homework they gave me. My backpack feels eighty pounds heavier! How do students here do all this?"

Toris walked on his right up the cobble-stone path that snaked around the hill top. Behind Toris were well-trimmed elms and oaks, as well as more grecian-style statues.

While continuing to slowly lick his partly-melted vanilla ice cream, Toris said, "They don't. They have hired help do it."

Alfred halted, saying, "Say what? You're joking right?" The look in Toris's green eyes said it all. "You're _not_ joking? They cheat?"

"I believe most here call it 'outsourcing'."

Running a hand through his hair, Alfred turned away, facing the foot high brick wall on his left. The only purpose of the wall was to create a border between here and the dirt path four feet below, the one that led to the pools. A path mostly obscured by tree branches.

Too angry to form a coherent sentence at first, Alfred groaned. Then finally, he rounded on Toris. "But if they don't do the work, won't they fail the tests?"

"No. All important notes and flashcards are written in advance by their help. Besides, I doubt the teachers would ever fail the students here. Everyone has a GPA of near perfect 4.0."

"They didn't earn those grades!"

Toris shrugged. "It isn't about what they earned. Their parents have an army of lawyers who'd sue administration if it ruined their childrens' perfect stroll into the Ivy Leagues. Also it would hurt their feelings to fail. You see, they really tried and they deserve an A for effort!"

"That's bull crap!" Alfred said in a voice louder than he intended it to be. "Who cares about their feelings! There is right and wrong!"

"Not really. They'd argue for moral relativism," Toris said. "The rich kids here love _moral relativism_. It makes it easy to excuse their behavior. Since bad deeds are all relative. Most here avoid feeling guilt for what they do by arguing over if what they do _is_ really wrong. In fact, is there really a wrong?"

"What? You kidding me? How is cheating justified? How is bullying justified?"

"Trust me. They'll spin it to their advantage and make you sound like an idiot who is stuck in archaic traditions. You still believe in heroes. I've heard more than a few argue there are no such things. That there is no such thing as good and evil. It's very convenient for _them_ ," Toris said. "That's how it works here."

"I don't think I like this place…" Alfred said, stuffing his hands in the pocket of the blazer. He went over and hopped up on the brick wall and began walking along it.

"Be careful. You could fall," Toris said nervously.

"Eh," Alfred said. "I have a good sense of balance. Besides," he glanced down, "it's not that much of a drop. Do you… do you outsource?"

"No," Toris said quickly. "I'm a deviant who believes that learning is its own reward. And I believe in heroes."

"Good." Alfred grinned at him and Toris looked away with a shy smile and reddened cheeks.

"If… if you want, I could help with the homework. Here, let's exchange numbers." Toris fumbled in his leather bag, pulling out his I-Phone 6S. It had a simple case with Lithuania's flag on the back.

"Um…" Alfred was reluctant to admit he had no cell phone. Thinking fast, he said brightly, "How about I give you my email?"

"Uh… sure." Disappointment washed over Toris' face.

"Don't take it the wrong way. I… erm… forgot my phone!" Alfred lied. "When I remember it, will exchange numbers." He could hit himself. How would he get out of this one?

After taking a red pen and scrap of paper out of the front of his back pack, Alfred jotted down the information and handed it over to Toris who slipped it away in the pocket of his pants. Alfred figured he could use Tino's dinosaur of a computer to chat by email.

"I'll email you tonight!"

"Sure, but I won't be able to answer until late," Alfred said, sure he'd have to study between breaks. "I've got work."

"You work?"

"Only part time. It's just a favor my brother and I do." Another lie. The favor was the owner giving them the jobs with such flexible hours. "My work is halfway between here and home so it's on the way. My uniform is also in my duffle bag."

"That sounds rough."

"It's not so bad. Mattie and I always have Sundays off."

"Oh," Toris said, eyebrows lifting, as if he had remembered something.

"What?"

"I forgot. We actually shouldn't go to the Observatory today."

"Why not?"

"Because on days where Ivan comes to school, I've heard he likes to lurk in this area," Toris said. "He is fond of the Observatory. But… probably it's fine."

"What? Does he have a thing for astronomy or something?" Alfred asked, as they continued along leisurely. The look on Toris told him everything. "Aw, dude. Not cool! That's my interest! I don't want to share it with him. At least he's not into chess."

"Actually…"

"What?" Alfred whined. "You're kidding! Those are _my_ interests! And I'm great at them."

"Ivan's said to be a former junior chess champ."

"Ah, great!" Alfred said in way that made it sound like a curse. He wobbled for a moment, but steadied himself.

"You shouldn't do that. You'll fall."

"It's fine," Alfred said. "Like I said. I've a great sense of balance. How about you come up here?"

He beamed at Toris and held out a hand. For some reason, Toris' eyes stared up into his own, a growing blush staining Toris' round face.

"A-All right," the boy said, taking the hand.

"That's the spirit!" Alfred said, yanking him up.

Unfortunately, while Alfred was good at balance, he was a poor judge of his own strength and pulled too hard sending Toris over the edge rather than on to it. With a cry, Toris fell, dragging Alfred with him. And both tumbled down, snapping a couple branches in their fall, and landed hard on the ground.

Alfred gasped and wheezed, pushing onto his knees, feeling there was no air in the world. "You… all right?" he mouthed, more than said, trying to draw in air.

Toris, on his hands and knees, seemed to have frozen solid. His gaze was fixed on something beyond Alfred; dawning horror spread across his bland features. Color drained from his face that turned grayer and grayer by the second.

Curious what terrified Toris, Alfred followed his gaze to Toris' fallen ice cream cone then to the very expensive-looking leather shoe its remaining ice cream had splattered across, then up the pant leg of the shoes' owner, up and up until Alfred stared straight into the opal eyes of Ivan.

At first, Ivan appeared surprised, then his eyes darkened and narrowed and his gaze shifted to Toris, settling upon him like he were a worm that had dared to poke its head out of the dirt.

On one side of Ivan sat Francis and, on the other, Antonio who both looked on in stunned silence. Gilbert, still trying to look up the toga of a half-naked female statue, finally glanced over, noticing what had happened.

As Ivan rose to his feet, his shadow fell over Alfred and Toris. Toris uttered a gasping whimper and looked as if he were trying to physically crawl inside himself.

Standing up, Alfred grabbed Toris arm, pulling him up. His friend slowly stood up and Alfred stepped protectively between Toris and Ivan. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Alfred swore Ivan's gaze lingered on Toris' slender fingers gripping at Alfred's sleeve before they latched back onto Toris.

When Ivan gave that cruel smile, Alfred felt as if his heart had climbed into his throat and was attempting to crawl out. The air boiled with menace.

In a quavering voice, Toris said, "I-I'm s-s-sorry. L-let m-me buy a new p-pair."

Giggling, Ivan spoke coldly, "You can't. These were handcrafted by the _late_ Roma Vargas in Italy. What will you do? Fly over to Florence and dig him up?"

"Then… then I'll clean them. They'll be spotless," Toris said, a soft sob escaping. He hiccuped and clutched tighter at Alfred's sleeve.

"Clean them?" Ivan said thoughtfully, tilting his head. Something in that tone disturbed Alfred. And the giggle that followed was worse. "Da. You will."

"Send them to me and I'll —."

"Nyet," Ivan interrupted. "That takes too long. You'll clean them now."

"But… I…" Toris sounded worried and confused. "I don't have the items."

Francis averted his gaze, while Gilbert gave a bored eyeroll, but Antonio watched in interest. They seemed to know what Ivan was up to. When Ivan lifted his shoe, Alfred had a growing suspicion. A coldness welled up in the pit of his stomach and a sense of revulsion.

"You have everything you need," Ivan said. "Lick it clean. With your tongue."

A gasp escaped Toris who squeezed tightly on Alfred's sleeve. "But… I… I …"

"You don't want forgiveness? And I was being so kind," Ivan said. "I'll let you off easy _if_ you lick it clean."

A wave of queasiness washed over Alfred whose hands balled into fists. He thought of all the times kids had picked on his brother, bullies always went after the weak. He glanced at Toris who had turned grey in the face and looked about to faint.

"Well," Ivan said in an expectant voice. "I don't have all evening."

And Alfred had no more patience. In a blink, he stepped forward and shoved his palm against Ivan's chest, yelling, "What the fuck is wrong with you? He said he was sorry! It was an accident! They happen. And it was my fault he fell! Just back the hell off!"

All eyes fell on Alfred, as if he were being examined under a microscope. While Ivan's gaze was cold and calculating, the Bad Touch Trio shared mirrored expressions of shock. Ivan's aura of intimidation seemed to grow, but Alfred wouldn't have it. He lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders.

"You're that gutter rat they invited in. Everyone has been talking of you. You brag you're a hero."

"Coz I am!"

A corner of Ivan's mouth lifted in a pouty smile. While he wore a child-like pout, his voice spoke in a sneer. "Prove it, hero. Take your friend's place and lick my shoe clean. Then I'll forgive everything."

There was an audible gasp behind him. Alfred's insides went close as he glanced from the shoe to Ivan and then to Toris who stood trembling and about to pass out.

"Wh-what?" Alfred said, almost stupidly, mind not believing this. He slightly shook his head. "You can't be serious."

"Go on, hero. Save your damsel."

There was a chuckle from Antonio who watched in fascination. On the other hand, Francis seemed immersed in his glittery smart phone.

"Gilbert," Ivan said suddenly and the white-haired man jumped.

"What?"

"Record this," Ivan said, waving for the other to come over. "I want to remember this hero's noble deed."

"All right," Gilbert said, coming around and holding up his smart phone to flim. It had a black casing with the Tetonic Cross in silver on the back. "Gonna be awesome."

"You people are sick!" Alfred said. "You can't do this!"

"Enough stalling. If you don't, things will get very unpleasant for both of you," Ivan said in a low voice. "We can do whatever we want. That's the difference between us and you. We matter. You don't."

"Why? Because you're parents have money? Your heart must've fallen out long ago," Alfred said, fisted hands shaking at his sides.

"Enough. Either lick and be forgiven. Or pay the price," Ivan said, shaking his foot. "I offered you a way to save your friend, but my patience is running thing. Hurry and lick it. It'll taste better than anything you stuff in that mouth of yours."

Ivan giggled and the others, except for Francis, chuckled as well.

Alfred's felt his face crumple as he thought of Matthew, Tino, and the pride in their eyes when he received his Letter of Acceptance. Few ever escaped their rundown neighborhood. Every morning people — from the butcher to the Chinese bakery owners — greeted Alfred with an encouraging wave and hoot. They wanted him to succeed. He had promised he would, had sworn to graduate no matter what.

Just a couple licks and it would be over. The moment would be immortalized on film and no doubt posted on You Tube. His social standing at this school couldn't get any lower, could it? What had he to lose?

"I don't have all day," Ivan said, sounding annoyed. "You have to the count of three. _One_."

Berwald had once told Alfred something in his odd, grunting way: _Once you begin living in fear, you never stop._

" _Two_."

Alfred began to sink to his knees and Ivan stopped. He felt those violet eyes watching him in intense interested. There was a sob from Toris touched Alfred's shoulder, but he shrugged him off.

He looked up past that creepy smile to those eyes, dead like a fish. To the side, Gilbert stood eagerly recording and Antonio watched. He heard Gilbert mutter, "this'll be good."

And something snapped in Alfred, a rage that exploded through his body like a spark thrown on gasoline. Never in his life had he been so furious, so angry, so determined to wipe smugness off a bully's face. Images flashed through his mind — of that kid with juice poured over him, of Matthew's bullies — and before his mind knew what his body was doing, he was shooting upward on his feet.

His first arced upward, rocketing with all his upward momentum straight into Ivan's jaw where it connected hard. The senior lifted off his feet, just as everyone's jaw dropped in dawning shock, and he flew backwards with eyes bulging in shock. With a hard thud, he hit the ground and skidded within inches of Francis' feet, leaving a small groove in through the dead leaves.

For a long moment no one moved. There was only the twitter of a bird above, the distant chatter of student further down the path, and the wind rustling the leaves on the ground. Everyone appeared struck dumb.

Francis face was caught in an expression akin to that in the painting "The Scream" by Van Gogh. Gilbert and Antonio seemed trapped between horror and awe.

Alfred noticed this in the edges of his vision, his central focus remaining on Ivan who had not blinked nor stirred to wipe a way the dribble of blood from his split lip, even as it trickled slowly down his chin.

It was Alfred who broke the silence, jabbing a forefinger at Ivan who flinched. "You!" Alfred said in a raised voice. "Who the fuck are you to look down on others, Braginski? Don't go boasting about being rich off your parents' money! You're just a limp-dick brat who never earned a dime in his life! Kiss my _poor_ fucking ass!"

And with that, Alfred shot Ivan the middle finger, kissing the tip, before he spun around and grabbed Toris' wrist. His friend yelped as Alfred dragged him off, refusing to look back, yet feeling that violet gaze burning holes in the back of his head.

While Alfred concentrated on not giving into his desire to run, his mind screamed, "What did you do?"

And was Ivan's head made of iron? Alfred's hand throbbed in pain.

He was so very dead.

* * *

"Does he have a concussion?" Antonio asked, knelt in front of Ivan like the other two.

Their leader had not budged an inch since Alfred went out of sight, only continued to stare unblinking in the direction Alfred had gone. To say it was unnerving was an understatement.

"Mon dieu, how many fingers am I holding up?" Francis asked, waving four in front of Ivan's face. "Perhaps we should remove his coat and clothing?"

"What good would that do?" Gilbert growled.

"It would do me lots of good," Francis said, starting to reach for the buttons, but froze when Ivan's hand snatched his, squeezing in a warning. "Mon cheri~?"

"Hey bastard, are you brain damaged?" Gilbert asked, alternating his gaze between the screen of his smart phone and Ivan. Antonio was also looking over his shoulder, watching the replay. With an appreciative whistle, he added, "Gotta give that Jones jerk some credit. What a punch!"

Suddenly, Ivan let go of Francis and stood up, turning towards them. Then he snatched away Gilbert's phone, ignoring the albino's protest.

"Hey!"

Ivan shot Gilbert a warning look that stilled the annoyed man, then turned back to the video. He watched it intensely. His smile grew each time he rewound it. He giggled at first, then he doubled over, chortling with the creepiest high-pitched laugh Francis had ever heard.

Francis shivered, hairs rising on his forearms and nape.

"He's flipped out," Gilbert said and Antonio nodded in agreement.

"Erm… Ivan should we red-card the _puta madre_?" Antonio asked nervously.

Ivan went quiet, tilting his head in thought. He shook his head slowly as he stared at the phone's screen with an almost loving expression. One Francis had not seen on Ivan in a long time.

"Nyet," Ivan said. The only time Ivan spoke with Russian was when he was deeply distracted. Otherwise he had no accent. Francis only added french words because it made any language sexier. "I'll deal with him personally. After all, I'm the one he's in love with."

Gilbert's mouth fell open, Antonio's thick eyebrows shot up, and Francis almost fell over as they all said, "What?"

With a sigh, as if speaking to simpletons, Ivan said, "Can't you see? The poor fool has fallen for me. Didn't you hear him? He begged me to kiss his ass. I'll make him my _toy._ "

Another giggle as Ivan's face softened and his eyes glazed over with a fantasy. Judging from the pink blush staining his cheeks, Francis could guess what thoughts Ivan's mind had turned to.

"He punched you. I think he meant something else," Gilbert said, as if Ivan was listening.

"Alfred F. Jones," Ivan all but purred, giggling again. He began to walk off — or in Francis' eyes — skip. "His hair is yellow like a sunflower. Hm… sunflowers suit him."

"Hey, what about my phone?" Gilbert said, following after Ivan.

Antonio stepped over to Francis and said, " _El esta loco_."

"We already knew that," Francis said. "Instead of an arrow, amor came in the form of a fist. That Amerique is in for more trouble than he knows. You remember what happened last time Ivan had a crush."

They all remembered what happened to _Yao_.

"Oh," Antonio looked over in concern. "Pobrecito."

* * *

(TBC in … "In The Game of Love")

* * *

This story has gotten a huge response. Thank you all! So I hope you like this update as well. It seems Ivan has fallen hard for Alfred, but believes Alfred has fallen for him. Uh-oh. Things are about to get uncomfortable for our hero.


	4. In The Game Of Love

**Note -** Wow. So many reviews. 27 and climbing. Thank you everyone for the views, likes, favs, and the reviews. And a very special thank you to...

 **nicolai87, Asileme , RedPhoenix16, dance on the brink (** good to see you again **), inviso-bella , sakerat , ivyshadow13 , , pastaaddict , Ashcola17 , ThatGirlUnderTheBox , Dreams-Wishes-Hopes , Arya Scarlett 14 (** it's been a while :) **, SparklePaws , Terry, Crimson cat angel , spicygenou , SJK09,** **Mitsukuriryoko(** thanks for the suggestions **) , and two anons!**

* * *

 **In The Game of Love**

* * *

Muscles straining against the thick cotton fabric of his polo-shirt, right hand still aching badly from punching Ivan, Alfred pushed hard on the handle of the butter knife, attempting to wedge its blade between the dried gum and the underside of the white Formica table.

Suddenly, the knife popped loose and flew out of Alfred's grip. He fell forward, banging his forehead into the rounded edge of the table. Howling with pain, he rubbed at the injury.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. "They cemented this bastard on!"

"Al," Matthew called in his scolding voice. Alfred's brother stood in front of the glass front doors of the Pancake Factory, cleaning them with a bottle of windex and a cloth rag. "I keep telling you to use a bag of ice or peanut butter from the pantry. It'll loosen it up. If you'd listen to me inst—."

"—that'll take too long!" Alfred interrupted, crawling under the booth's table and across the checkered floor of alternating peach and dark brown squares. Once he had retrieved the knife, he squatted next to the booth, one elbow resting on the red vinyl upholstery of its seat, and went back to work.

"Why don't you let me do that? Doesn't your hand hurt?" Matthew asked softly.

"A bit," he lied. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?" Matthew gave a couple quick sprays.

"You know the look. The one you give when you think I'm being stupid."

"What? You _can_ read atmosphere?" Matthew said wryly. Alfred shot a frown over his shoulder at the back of his brother's head. They both wore matching sets of orange shirts and black slacks — their uniforms at the Pancake Factory.

Little by little the wad of gum loosened. "I swear this is vandalism. They super-glued it on. I wanna see the video!"

"If you want to comb through hours of security cam footage over a wad of gum, be my guest. But you'll do it without me." Matthew said, words punctuated by a couple more sprays.

"But Mattie ~ You're my back-up!" Matthew snickered at that. "Lukas would want to know this vandal!"

Matthew laughed at that. "Really, Al? Take a look at the state of this place. I doubt gum will bother him."

Their boss wasn't exactly keeping up with maintenance. There were chips, scratches, and dents everywhere, even on the silverware.

"He'd have more business here if he'd listen to my suggestions," Alfred said.

"Changing our uniform colors to red, white, and blue is not going to bring in more business."

"You can't be sure! And what about my other ideas? They're even better. Like getting rid of Mr. Stack."

Matthew gave a strangled cry and said defensively, "You leave Mr. Stack alone! I _like_ him!"

Mr. Stack was the store mascot, visible on all the napkins and on the glass front doors and behind the counter. He was a stack of pancakes with cartoon eyes on top and pancake lips in the center of his body.

"You also like Nickleback. Your sense of taste can't be trusted," Alfred said, knowing, without looking, that his brother was glaring at him. He pointedly ignored it. "Mr. Stack is stupid. Now if it were up to me, the store mascot would be Mr. Pan-America! A bald eagle with guns that shoot maple syrup and butter stick bombs that explode. Now _that_ would be epic!"

"Only you would think that. Kids love Mr. Stack. He's cute. And who are you to bash others' tastes? Nickleback has plenty of good songs."

"That all sound the same. As for Mr. Stack he's sick." Mathew groaned and Alfred heard him mutter 'not this again'. "He's a stack of pancakes whose phrase is, ' _Yummy, dum, dum, get pancakes in your tum!_ ' He's tells people to eat pancakes. Doesn't that make him a _pannibal?_ "

Alfred swore he could hear Matthew rolling his eyes. "That joke will never be funny, Al. _Never_."

"I have no idea what you mean. It's comedy gold!" Alfred joked and then the gum popped off and landed on the floor. "Ah-hah! Did you see that? I am the hero!"

Matthew gave a very slow clap. "Oh, wow. My hero. The evil gum wad has been slain." His tone hinted at sarcasm.

"Don't be jealous. Not everyone can be the hero. Some are more suited to being _sidekicks_ ," Alfred said, plucking a napkin out of one of the metal holders on the table before using that to pick up the gum. He knew Matthew was frowning at him. He could read atmosphere, he just preferred to ignore it.

As he carried the wad around the grey counter, lined with stools of red vinyl upholstery, he glanced at his brother who was still staring at him. While they had similar faces, Matthew's was rounder and softer at the edges. He also had a leaner frame compared to Alfred's muscular, more tanned one. Their glasses were similar, but their eyes slightly different shades of blue. Where Alfred had sky-blue irises, Matthew's had a violet-tinge to his.

"Speakings of heroics," Matthew said, sounding nervous, "Do you think Ivan will retaliate?"

"Probably," Alfred said, chucking the gum in the trash before heading into the kitchen. They continued to talk in raised voices as he tossed the butter knife in the sink and took out the broom and dust pan. "But I'll take on the whole school if I have to. I'm not afraid. They can't break me! No siree!"

When he came back, Matthew had put away the windex and cloth and was now tapping on the buttons of the cash register.

"Will… will he sue you?"

"For what?"

"For assault and battery."

"Me?" Alfred guffawed. "It was in self-defense."

"You said they filmed it."

"Yeah. Hope they post it," Alfred said, pausing to stare off dreamily until he noticed Matthew frowning at him. "What? It was an awesome punch. I want to relive knocking out that creep."

Matthew shook his head. "Al, they could use that as evidence."

"Against me? He was the one ordering me and Toris to lick his shoes."

There was the jingle of keys as Matthew fished out the Pancake Factory's key ring from his back pocket. After Matthew inserted the smallest key and turned it, the register began printing out a receipt with all the transactions for the days.

Shaking his head, Matthew said, "They can edit the footage. Plus you'll have to describe how the punch was self-defense. You could have walked away."

"How was it not? Way to kill my hero buzz. You make it sound like I should've just licked his shoe," Alfred said, starting to sweep furiously around the stools. He kicked up more dust than gathered it.

"Never mind," Matthew said with a heavy sigh. "I can believe Louis Bonnaparte and Old Fritz' sons are such jerks. I always thought their kids would be… erm…"

"Like the dads? Maybe they are," Alfred said.

"No, they aren't like that," Matthew insisted. "I wish I could meet Louis. His recipes are so amazing."

"I think you'd lick his shoes if given the chance," Alfred said, flashing his brother a grin.

"I love his souffle recipe," Matthew sighed, looking lost in a daydream. "I wish I could cook like him."

"You'll be better than him one day. You'll be the world's greatest chef," Alfred said, opening his arms wide.

"Y-you really think so?"

"I know so. Heck, even Lukas would admit most of the customers come here only when you're in the kitchen. They know you're schedule better than you!"

"Y-you're exaggerating," Matthew said, dropping his gaze to the register, but he couldn't hide the smile ghosting his lips or the faint pink blush on his cheeks. "I'm not that good."

"Oh, come off it. If I didn't work out so much you'd need a crane to get me up the stairs of our apartment, I'd be so fat from eating your cooking," Alfred said, beaming at his brother who quickly looked away. He knew Matthew was turning bright red, like he did whenever anyone praised him.

When his brother turned back, he had a sad look in his eyes and Alfred could guess why. Matthew felt incredibly guilty at the cost of his culinary school's tuition. The only reason they could afford it was because Alfred had free tuition right now. If Alfred was kicked out of Hetalia High, Matthew might have to drop out as well.

Alfred refused to let that happen.

"S-so will Toris be all right?" Matthew asked in a shaky voice, clearly wanting a new topic.

"I already told you. I left him with the school nurse. He seemed better. I wish I had a phone, then he could text me." Alfred bent to sweep under a table.

"Yeah…" Matthew said. "Alejandro keeps pestering me to get one as well."

Alfred grunted, but said nothing. Matthew was aware that Alfred and Alejandro disliked each other. He really didn't know why his brother insisted on dating that Cuban creep nor what he saw in him.

Deciding to lighten the mood, Alfred joked, "You think Lukas' hair curl might give us a loan?"

Matthew chuckled softly as he squatted down, no doubt checking stock. "For the last time, it's not possessed or sentient. His hair tends to stick up. That's all. It's a different strand."

"It's the same one and it moves, Mattie. It moves," Alfred insisted, voice going a little higher than intended. "I hope it's not e-e-evil."

Matthew peeked above the counter, one blond eyebrow arched. "So you believe one strand of hair rips itself out by the roots and moves around his scalp?"

"It's possessed, Mattie. Ghosts are real," Alfred said, voice quaking. "I've shown the proof."

"Ghost Hunters is a TV show. It's not _proof._ "

"A _reality_ TV show. Based on reality."

"Good grief," Matthew said, disappearing back below. "I still can't believe you get scared watching that stuff."

"Coz it's real," Alfred said. "I showed you that civil war episode they filmed in Gettysburg. And that hair curl is weird."

"I'll agree that Lukas is weird."

"That too."

Their boss was obsessed with trolls, his office papered with posters of them. He had salt on the windows and often wore mismatched socks to work, claiming the gnomes stole the other one. And on more than one occasion, they had passed his office to hear him having a conversation in Norwegian to no one in particular.

"Why don't you head home? I can close up," Matthew said, sounding like he was moving stock around.

"No way. We go home together. This isn't an easy neighborhood," Alfred said.

"Then at least study. I can finish the cleaning. You have a lot of work."

"I'll be fine," Alfred said, gathering up the dust in a pile.

"We'll be careful tomorrow," Matthew said, sounding concerned. "Ivan sounds unstable."

"Eh, what's the worst that he'll do? Try to beat me up?" Alfred said. "As long as it stays at school I can handle it."

* * *

There was not enough coffee in the universe to rouse Alfred from the haze of sleep. The deep bags under his eyes were a testament to that.

Pre-dawn shadows masked the grime, potholes, and numerous cracks of the street and sidewalk. He carried Tony down the cracked concrete steps of the brick apartment's stoop and set him down.

After mounting Tony, he pumped the petals and took off down the street, careful of the corners where young men gathered and slouched around in groups. Fortunately, most of the gangs liked Alfred. Unfortunately, they liked him too much and kept pushing him to join. That was a trade he wanted to stay clear of.

Once out of the rougher side of town, Alfred let his guard down and began to enjoy the ride. The street lamps turned off, but there were still a couple stars out. Venus gleamed proudly in a crisp sky on the verge of daylight.

Too busy admiring Venus, Alfred did not notice the unmarked white van following him from along the street. When he braked and waited for a stoplight to change, he did not notice it also stopped nor the men two men in dark grey jumpsuits that stepped out behind him.

Only when a limo pulled up in front of him, blocking the cross walk, did he start to notice something was wrong. A frown grew on his features as he wondered why a limo was out in this part of town.

The passenger window in its rear rolled down to reveal a pale, square face, one that made Alfred's blood run cold as he recognized Ivan. Ivan stared at him, smiling knowingly.

A small glance behind Alfred was the only warning he had before a black bag was pulled over his head. His whole body sprung into action, limbs flailing as arms snaked around his waist and limbs, dragging him off Tony.

He tried to shout, but a large hand clamped over his mouth and the map made it difficult to bit into the palm. He bucked and twisted, managing to kick one of his attackers who gave an "oomph".

Then he felt a pinprick in his neck from a sharp needle sliding under the skin. Hot liquid coursed through his veins and his body went limp, strength ebbing away.

"Take the bike," A voice grunted.

"Mmph," Alfred said, words muffled. His body would no longer obey him.

He was dragged; he heard the van's side door slide open before they tossed him inside.

He never felt himself hit the floor. The last thing he remembered thinking was "Ivan is kidnapping me".

* * *

(TBC in… "Be My Toy")

* * *

 **Note —** Confession. *draws in deep breath*. I like Nickleback as well.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** Ah, the infamous kidnapping scene that is manga canon and is features in the anime and all versions of the drama. It is like cornerstone of the story because it leads to the first confrontation between the protagonist and initial antagonist. This wouldn't be a "Boys Over Flowers" tribute without it. However, I might add my own ideas.


	5. Be My Toy

**Q & A**

 **Will there be Pru Can?**

I'm not sure at this point because that would mean a love triangle. I want to see how this story plays out first. However, Matthew does have a very lovely romance arc in his future that is partly-based on manga canon. However, since I prefer the Korean Drama's take on that love story, I will be following that more. Matthew is based on the role of Chu Ga-Eul and Francis is in the role of So Yi-Jung (the F4's consummate flirt and player). I love watching the best moments of that pairing on You Tube. I recommend checking it out.

 **Can this be watched on Netflix?**

I'm not sure. I don't use netflix, but you can watch all drama versions and the anime online. Dramafever and You Tube are good places.

* * *

 **Acknowledgements:**

Yowza to the response. Thank you for all your likes, favs, and comments. Those motivate me to aim for weekly updates.

I want to give special thanks to those commented last update. Your words and thoughts were very appreciated (even your screams :)

So thank you: **random person, nicolai87, Dreams-Wishes-Hopes, ivyshadow13, pastaaddict, aryascarlett14, Red Phoenix 15, Asileme, and Starren Pi (** your comments were very insightful).

* * *

 **Be My Toy**

* * *

Fingertips sank into the flesh of his back, legs, and arms. They kneaded muscles, working out kinks and rubbing in oil. In his drug-induced haze, Alfred groaned in pleasure.

This had to be heaven.

He peeled his lips apart; they were fused together by a coat of dried saliva. "Hamburger," he moaned, believing heaven should have those.

He shifted and tried to lift his face out of the table's cradle. The hands stopped their massage and held him down.

"He's waking up," a woman said.

"Hold on," a man said.

A moment later Alfred yelped from a sharp prick in his butt. Warmth coursed through his slackening body. He slumped on the table and the hands went back to work as if there had been no interruption. Meanwhile. Alfred's consciousness sailed far away.

* * *

When Alfred woke, his body felt loose and relaxed. Not a knot or tense spot anywhere. The same could not be said for his head.

Skull pounding, he moaned, "Dear God."

With great effort he opened his eyes, their lids crusted and sore, and found he was laying on the left side of a huge canopy bed, one with silken sheets covered in imprints of sunflowers. His cheek pressed against a silken pillowcase, one stained with a trickle of his drool.

All he wanted was to punch Ivan harder and preferably several times.

"That rotten bastard," he groaned, sitting up and wiping off the dried saliva on his chin with the back of his hand.

Squinting, he saw Texas — his round-lensed glasses — on a nearby night stand. As he reached, he froze and stared in utter disbelief at his sleeve, no his cuff links. His _diamond_ cuff links.

"Holy shit…" He took in his outfit, a black tuxedo, like something James Bond would wear, complete with shawl lapels and a bow tie. Pearl buttons ran down the front of the starched shirt and in the suit's left breast pocket was a sunflower.

In fact, he suspected a theme.

Grabbing Texas, he slipped them on and the far away parts of the room came into focus. Rooms like this were something he had only seen on the TV shows that Matthew and Tino watched. It was lavish, walls covered in cream and brown wall paper with sunflower prints in the vertical strips. All the wood was black walnut and carved with sunflower motifs.

Beyond the foot of the bed, directly across from him stood a gigantic marble fireplace with a large oil painting hung above its mantle. The portrait featured three ash-blond children sitting in the midst of a field of sunflowers with clear blue sky overhead.

What really caught Alfred's attention was the silver platter of breakfast sitting atop a square, cloth-covered table in front of the fireplace. His stomach growled and he slid off the bed, noting the fine black loafers on his feet, polished to a mirror shine.

What hell was going on?

He steadied himself with the bed posts, legs shaky, and plopped down in the cushioned seat before the table, staring in awe at the meal. There was a plate of toasts, one for butters and jellies of all sorts, one for imported cheeses and thinly-sliced ham, and what looked liked the finest Egg McMuffin he had ever laid eyes on.

There was also a freshly-cut sunflower in a tiny, silver vase. What was the hell with all the sunflowers?

Picking up the silver cup, he breathed in the aroma of coffee, steam rising off the black liquid. It smelled like Brazilian, or maybe Portuguese. When it came to coffee, Alfred knew his beans.

It tasted like heaven. Next, he chugged down the glass of chilled orange fruit juice, condensation beaded on the side. Everything tasted wonderful as he gorged himself, hoping it wasn't drugged. He wished Matthew were here to confirm that drugged food couldn't taste this good.

As he ate, he stared up at the portrait — what his eyes had only glanced over before — and craned his head to study it. The older child, almost a teenage girl, sat further back and head teal-colored eyes on a round, lightly-freckled face. Her figure was curvy and her smile generous and warm.

Before her, in the tall flowers, sat two children, one a pale boy — a young Ivan — who lower face was hidden completely by the folds of a familiar brown scarf that looked too big on him. There was a shy and unsure look in his violet eyes that stared to the ground and not out of the portrait.

The younger girl, seated on the older ones lap, had a possessive grip on the boy's scarf and she stared very challengingly out of the picture. She had a thin face and thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. The dour creature's body had limbs too long for her form, all clad in a dark purple, form-fitting dress. Of the three, her hair was nearly white and crowned by a large, black bow.

She was so scrappy, as to be devoid of any femininity. And her dark blue eyes glittered with a maturity beyond her years and a malice for one so young.

Siblings? he wondered, setting down the cup.

Feeling steadier, he stood up and went to the glass balcony door in search of an escape. Glad to find them unlocked, he opened then and cool, late morning air hit his face. The scents of garden foliage thick in the air.

His mouth fell open.

He was on the fourth floor of what felt like a castle. On either side it swept outward and there were other balconies separated by too much distance to jump and with marble angles sitting in prayer on their railings. By the light, it looked close to late morning. The shadows were thrown westward.

Down below were many neatly-cut gardens, groves of trees, cobbled-paths, fountains and statues. It was like something out of Tino's Better Homes and Gardens magazines.

A knock at the door from the room, spun Alfred on his heel as one of the double doors opened. A man, a very elderly butler with long, white hair tied back in a very well-kept pony tail greeted him.

"What's going on?" Alfred demanded, running over to him.

A pair of green eyes, deep-set in a chiseled face, one liver-spotted and worn by time, regarded him. The man showed very little expression and had a forehead more prominent than Jack Nicholson's. A hundred year old Jack Nicholson.

"Master Ivan wishes to speak with you," the butler said, dressed in a uniform of robin's egg blue. He was stout and had cataracts in his left eye.

"Perfect! Coz I want to speak to that bastard," Alfred said, following the man into a hallway as decadent as the rest of the house.

What was Ivan scheming?

* * *

Instead of waiting for the butler to open the double-doors to the bedroom, Alfred threw them open and stormed inside, finger waggling in an accusing manner, and yelled, "Ivan, you asshole! You fuck…in…"

He trailed off at the breathtaking sight. Ivan stood beside a tall, narrow window, gazing out at the gardens, his broad figure was contrasted by the scarlet curtains behind him. His lower half stood in the bright morning light and his upper half lay in shadows. It was surreal, beautiful, and somehow unearthly.

Until Ivan looked over, breaking the illusion, he appeared a perfect man carved of alabaster. Then the thoughtful expression on his face vanished, replaced promptly by that smiling, childish mask.

"It's a lovely day," Ivan said, adjusting his beige scarf.

Alfred forced his lips into a challenging smile, one that said 'I despise you above all others'. With hands balled into fists, he stalked over and grabbed Ivan by the lapels of his brown overcoat, forcing that opal gaze level to his eyes.

"I should beat the shit outta you! Do you have any idea what I've been through!" Alfred snarled.

"Da. A massage, being dressed in a trim-cut suit, left in a fancy room, given breakfast by my personal chef, and g—."

"Hell, Ivan! I've been through _hell_ , thanks to you!" Alfred interrupted. "You fucking kidnapped me! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I wanted to see you," Ivan answered simply, as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"What about what I want, huh? I don't want to fucking see you and…" Alfred paused, frown deepening as he noticed Ivan staring intently at his mouth. Ivan's cheeks darkened to rose pink and his pupils widened.

"Stop that!" Alfred said, shoving Ivan into the curtains and backing away. "Don't fantasize about me! I'm banned from your peanut-sized brain!"

Alfred distantly wondered if this meant Ivan was gay.

Ivan rubbed at his ears, saying, "You shouldn't yell so much. It's very irritating."

In a louder voice, Alfred shouted, "I'm glad it pisses you off! Thanks to you I'm late for school! It's almost noon."

"Actually, it's nine forty-five."

"Fuck." Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "Where's Tony?"

"Who?"

"My bike, jackass! I swear to God if you damaged him you'll be sorry!" Alfred had no idea what he could do to Ivan, but he made the threat anyway.

"Ah, that thing," Ivan said with distaste, his long nose crinkling in disgust. "My servants are fixing it. Did you know your back tire has very low pressure and your left brake no longer works?"

"How dare you defile Tony! No one touches him, but me!" Alfred exploded, jerking a thumb at his chest. "His flaws are part of his charm!"

"We should go to school together," Ivan said cheerily, as if he had come up with a marvelous idea.

Alfred stepped further away when Ivan reached for his hand. "How about no? You still haven't 'splained what the fuck this is for!" Alfred waved at his tux. "This better not be some weird, kinky shit of yours!"

Although Alfred would not admit to it, he did have a secret fondness for the idea of James Bond role-play kind. Ivan could be the super-villain who captured him. That thought was quickly stopped and chased away.

"Very loud," Ivan said, rubbing at his ears again. "If you want to unnerve someone, silence is better. It certainly unsettles me."

Alfred groaned, smacking a palm against his forehead. "Have you not heard a word I said? You kidnapped me and dressed me up like some fuckin' doll!"

"Da."

"What the hell is 'da'?" As Ivan opened his mouth to respond, Alfred quickly said, "Never mind! I don't care! You kidnapped me! Do you understand that?"

"I understand, but I fail to see the problem. I had no nefarious intent. Therefore, it is not a serious matter."

Alfred gaped at him, jaw working slowly until he thundered, "It is a serious matter! No one gives a shit what you intended! You can't kidnap someone even if it's to take them to Candy Land! It's illegal. It's a—."

Ivan stepped forward suddenly and slapped one large palm over Alfred's mouth cutting him off and the other whipped around to cradle the back of Alfred's head and hold him in his place. The minty cologne Ivan wore hit Alfred's nostrils and for a heart beat he did not fight back, then his mind caught up and Alfred struggled. He pushed and shoved until Ivan leaned in close enough for their forehead to touch.

The menace Ivan projected stilled Alfred as he met that violet glare. In a dark voice, one laced with warning, Ivan said, "I tire of your shrieking. You argue in a loop. I know you are emotional. However, you will continue in a level-tone or _I_ will get angry. Do you understand?"

Alfred wanted to shout more profanities and tell Ivan to kiss his ass. That was his first instinct and he refused to drop his gaze. However, he remembered Berwald once telling him that controlled anger was more effective than ranting at others. And while he would never admit Ivan had a point, he decided to go along with this.

He nodded, relieved when Ivan let go.

"Whatever," Alfred said, turning on his heel, about to storm out. "Just stay away from me."

"Sunflower, wait," Ivan said as Alfred started to leave. He caught Alfred's shoulder and Alfred shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me. And don't call me weird pet names." Alfred shot levelly at Ivan.

"Sunflower," Ivan repeated, seemingly oblivious to Alfred's scowl. "This is your chance to confess your love for me ~!"

Alfred grabbed the bedpost to prevent himself falling over as his knees nearly buckled at that statement. His mind spun. At first, he thought Ivan had cracked at a poorly-told joke, but one look at Ivan's serious expression told him otherwise.

"Me? Love you?" The hairs rose on his nape and forearms as he said that. "How hard did I hit you? Dude, get checked for a concussion. You must have brain-damage."

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Ivan said with a mixture of exasperation and confusion. He leaned close, causing Alfred to press his back into the bed post. With eyes half-lidded, Ivan spoke in almost a seductive way. "Don't deny your attraction to me. I'm not fond of liars."

"You're outta your mind, Ivan. I wouldn't date you for a million bucks."

Ivan blinked and then reached into his overcoat for something. For a panicked moment, Alfred wondered if it was a weapon (a pipe?) and was about to bolt when Ivan pulled out a plaid wallet that had 'Gucci' stamped on the side. He opened it and slid out a gold-colored Master Card.

"How about two million?" Ivan said, pushing the edge of the card against Alfred's chest.

Alfred's insides went numb; his mind shut down. All attempts to process Ivan's insanity failed. Unable to believe this, Alfred let out a nervous laugh. "Haha. Not funny, asshole."

"Of course, it isn't. I'm not joking," Ivan said, face turning stony. There was something akin to a plea in his hooded eyes. A longing that Alfred could not explain. "This is a debit and it has nearly three million on it. All yours if you agree to my terms."

"This a trick! Y-you're trying to get me on credit card fraud!" Alfred said, almost begged. Ivan could not be offering him three million just to date. That was beyond reason. A sinking feeling welled in the pit of his stomach that made him nauseous and dizzy. "Wh-why?"

"I know our _differences_ could cause issues. If I give you money now, then you won't have to feel ashamed of being poor." Alfred's jaw clenched and he ground his teeth. "All I ask is you stay by my side as my boyfriend until I tire of you."

"No way! You can't fool me," Alfred said.

"We can have papers drawn up. My mother always taught me the importance of having things in writing." Ivan pressed the debit card harder against Alfred.

Although Alfred knew he should push it away, he found himself staring at it instead. "Just to date? That's all."

"And how you shall behave as my boyfriend. No yelling will be the first term," Ivan said, sounded so assured of Alfred's answer. He seemed certain Alfred would agree.

Alfred's face went hot and his hands clenched into fists. A knot of rage coiled around his insides.

"You wanna pay me three million to be your toy." Alfred's voice was strained, barely-contained rage bleeding through. "Nothing more?"

"I prefer the term 'boyfriend', but yes. We can decide on the sex later." Alfred tensed; his body trembled. He felt like a volcano about to explode. The contempt and coldness in Ivan's voice made his blood boil. "Are you a virgin? If not, you'll need to be tested."

"So you want a prostitute."

"Your words, not mine." Ivan plastered on that sickly-sweet smile as he took one of Alfred's hands and squeezed it open then placed the card in it. In a promising tone, he added, "I am a very passionate lover. You will enjoy every moment."

Alfred did not look at Ivan. His gaze rested on the card on his palm, one that had upended all his thoughts. In his palm lay the power to pay off all his parents' debt, to cover all of Matthew's tuition and buy his brother top-notch cooking equipment instead of hand-me-downs, the ability to move the family to a safe neighborhood and into the beautiful dream house Tino longed for, an easier commute, and a better future. In his palm was the power to pay all of Tino's medical bills.

He should be happy. He should dance around in glee at hitting the jackpot. Even if Ivan was rotten inside, he was good-looking. Alfred could not deny a strong attraction to the man. He would likely enjoy it whether he wanted to admit that or not.

What was wrong with having a sugar daddy? Especially one your own age.

Despite what he should feel, all Alfred could feel was grief and sorrow. His vision clouded with tears that, one by one, slid down his cheek. Chest hitching with a sob, his face broke and his hand clenched around the card as he hunched forward.

"Why are you crying?" Ivan asked without an ounce of sympathy. He merely sounded confused and curious.

Alfred looked up and searched Ivan's face; he saw no pity, no empathy, only discomfort at Alfred's distress. It hit Alfred hard: the realization that Alfred's pain and this money meant nothing to Ivan. It was likely no more than the downpayment on a private jet.

"Why do you want to date me?" Alfred asked, voice hollow, mouth dry.

A simple question, yet Ivan appeared stumped.

"You would pay three million just because," Alfred said, dropping his gaze to his feet.

Then he knew what Ivan was really after: Alfred's pride. His sense of dignity, self-worth, and honor were being asked for. The more he thought about it, the more he knew what he had to do.

"I haven't all day. Is it a deal?" Ivan demanded.

Alfred stepped aside, backing around the bed. He beamed at Ivan who blushed faintly, watching in surprise as Alfred backed next to a nightstand. Without removing his eyes from Ivan's, Alfred lifted up the sunflowers from the clear vase and — still grinning proudly — snapped the debit card in two and dropped both pieces in the water before dropping the flowers back in.

"The answer is hell no," Alfred said.

Ivan continued to stare at the broken debit card, completely motionless. He did not even blink; he seemed unable to comprehend what he saw and what he heard. His smile had vanished.

"Do… do you want more?" Ivan asked rather stupidly.

"Even if you had a gazillion and one dollars, you can't afford this hero," Alfred said, jerking a thumb to his chest.

"Everyone has a price. Name yours," Ivan said, looking discombobulated for the first time since yesterday. Alfred laughed at him, a laugh so deep from his belly, he threw his head back, laughing even harder at Ivan's darkening expression. He laughed at the absurdity that was Ivan, a poor, pitiful rich kid with no clue how the world work. A man who would throw three million away for an Alfred toy. "Stop laughing." His tone was cold.

And Alfred did, but he did not stop grinning. "You buy people, Ivan. You buy friends. You buy everything and everyone. But you can't buy me. I'm fucking priceless!" Then, wanting out of these over-priced clothing off, he undid the cuff links and tugged off the bow. "And you can have this shit back."

He paused as he undid the shirt buttons, noticing how intensely Ivan was watching him with a very reddened face. Realizing he was undressing in front of Ivan, Alfred blushed and quickly stopped.

"Gawd, what is wrong with you?" Alfred groaned and stomped toward the door. After slamming it shut behind him, he found the butler still waiting in the hall and hurried over to him. "Where's my stuff and what's the fastest way to get out of here?"

"Master Ivan has prepped his helic—."

"I'm not traveling with Master Douchebag, thank you very much," Alfred cut-in. "I want _my_ stuff and I want out of this damn suit and I want to go school."

The man glanced nervously at the door, one that remained shut. Ivan had not followed Alfred out. "V-very well. This way, sir."

By the time Alfred had been led to his bike and bag, it had been loaded into the back of the very unmarked white van he had been kidnapped in. In an ironic turn, he accepted a ride in that van and was dropped off - ceremoniously dumped — outside the front of the school gates in his uniform.

The guards never even batted an eyes as if that were the most normal site in the world.

"Yeah, well, screw you too!" Alfred said, shooting the back of the van a finger as drove off. Then he slapped on a grin as he walked up the security gates. "Morning, Mike!"

"Erm… morning, Al?" Mike said, glancing at his watch. "It's nearly eleven."

"It's been a hella a morning," Alfred joked.

Overhead there was the familiar thrum of Ivan's helicopter heading to Hetalia High.

* * *

TBC in "The Wooing of Alfred Jones"

Alfred is in for hell. Ivan has made _arrangements_.

* * *

 **Note —** That confrontation was hard to write. I'd take some of Ivan's behavior as bluster. I mean "a passionate lover" (implying skilled as well) at seventeen? Yeah, right. Like anyone trying to impress, Ivan may be not quite honest.

* * *

 **Note # 2 —** Did you figure out which Hetalia character the butler is?

* * *

 **Note #3 -** Have you ever watched a you tube video "History of Japan". I love that one so much. The guy did such a great job on it. So many Hetalia fans seemed to comment there.


	6. The Wooing Of Alfred F Jones (Pt 1)

**Acknowledgements** — Wow, this story is staying strong and not slipping at all. Thank you all for your comments, favs, and likes. They are keeping my motivation strong.

* * *

 **The Wooing Of Alfred F. Jones**

* * *

Alfred, never a good judge of his strength, threw open the oaken door of his math class too forcefully, banging it so hard into the opposite wall that it knocked off a framed picture. The result was that his rushed cry of "the hero is here!" was punctuated by the sound of shattering glass. And that was followed by his hasty apology of, "Oh man, I'm real sorry. Was that expensive?"

Alfred cringed at the site of the picture on the floor, one of several modern art paintings on the cream-colored walls of the class. As he looked over at his teacher, Raivis Galante, also nicknamed "Curly" for his curly, golden locks, he saw the man staring at Alfred in utter disbelief, gray-lavender eyes widened to their limits on his round, pudgy face. He held a black marker in his right hand, one still in the midst of writing out an equation on the white board.

Alfred could feel the eyes of the other twenty-five students fixed on him. He pointedly kept his attention on Mr. Galante, a very short man who barely came to Alfred's chest.

Exhausted from running across campus and up three flights of stairs, Alfred could hide it no longer and fell against the door frame, trying to catch his breath.

"Can I… sit… down?" Alfred wheezed, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Mr. Galante sucked in a sharp breathe and clutched at the hem of his maroon sweater, one he wore over gray slacks, and turned slowly in the direction of Alfred's chair. A seat that was on the window side and three rows back. In fact, all the students had shifted their gaze from Alfred to his seat.

And, in dawning horror, Alfred realized why.

"Oh God…" Alfred nearly sank to the wooden floor.

"They arrived fifteen minutes ago," Mr. Galante said.

Alfred barely heard the students whispering and snickering among each other; he was too preoccupied with wanting to crawl into a hole and die. Although he usually enjoyed being the center of attention, this was too much.

"Let me sit on the floor!" Alfred begged Mr. Galante.

"P-Pardon?" the teacher said in his soft-spoken way.

"That book shelf looks perfectly comfortable. Heck, the window sill works. Anywhere, but there!"

"Mr. Jones," His teacher admonished. "You've disrupted class enough. Pl-please just sit down."

"But… but…" Alfred whined and, seeing Mr. Galante would not be swayed, lowered his head and skulked to his desk, bag slung over one shoulder.

Dozens of sunflowers, some wrapped in colorful wreaths and others in pots on the floor, surrounded and enshrined his desk. The late morning light shined on the ghastly arrangement and gave it a translucent feel. A stand held several bouquets above his cushioned chair. The tall, burly student directly behind seemed to enjoy the arrangement and the cover it gave from Mr. Galante's eyes.

That boy, glancing up from the game on his cell phone, sneered, "Hey Alfie, sounds like you got a boyfriend. Who's the bottom?"

"Your dad," Alfred retorted with a grin as grabbed the Hallmark card off the white top of his desk, one with SUNFLOWER written in gold across the front, and crumpled it into a ball and shoved that into his bag.

Half the class snickered at the boy who blushed. Scowling at Alfred and desperate for a comeback, he stammered, "Yeah… yeah right! You wish!" Then turned redder as the class laughed harder at him.

Alfred barely gave him anymore attention, instead he threw his bag on his seat and kicked aside some of the flowers so he could get into his seat. Mentally he cursed Ivan. This would all go into the trash after class.

Alfred activated the touchscreen computer embedded in the surface of his desk and opened the file for his math book. The hardware at this school was so different from his previous, a place where they barely trusted students with the pencil sharpener.

As Mr. Galante returned to his droning, monotone lecture, Alfred started to formulate his excuse for turning in his tardy assignments. He suspected "I was kidnapped by Ivan" was as valid an excuse here as "I had the flu". At least he hoped.

It'll be okay. I can get through this, he assured himself. Hopefully, it wouldn't get worse.

* * *

Ten minutes before the bell, it got worse. Much worse.

In the midst of writing out a solution to one of the problems on his computer screen, Alfred did not look up when the door opened. He heard more than one person enter. Only Mr. Galante's voice saying, "What's the meaning of this? We're in the middle of a quiz!" brought Alfred to break from his concentration.

At first, he was both confused and surprised to see four middle-aged men in red-striped jackets, bright red pants, and boater hats standing in a line in front of the white board. They reminded him of the Dapper Dans in Disneyland, a place he and Matthew had watched many You Tube videos about and dreamed of visiting one day. They had practically memorized the entire layout of the park in Florida.

It was only when he put two and two together that he realized with a sinking horror in his gut _why_ a Barbershop Quartet had entered his classroom. No, he mouthed, nausea and bile rising in his throat. He wanted to flee and eyed the window.

The fall would likely only break one or both his legs. He could crawl away on his arms. It'd be worth it to escape _this_. For a brief moment of hope, Alfred thought Mr. Galante would send them away.

Then the shortest member, and apparent leader, piped, "We've been sent courtesy of one Ivan Braginski who would like to send a very special message to his very lovely Sunflower!"

Alfred groaned audible and slumped in his seat. Several giggled around him and others gaped as they took in the name _Ivan Braginski_. That Ivan was Alfred's admirer, _torturer_.

"Br-Braginski?" Mr. Galante stammered, his already pale face turned nearly paper-white. He trembled visibly and said in a quavering voice, "W-well, then proceed."

"Whaaat? Mr. Galante!" Alfred whined, raising his hand and waving it. He wanted to protest this. "You can't be serious! Mr. Galante!"

Alfred either sat in Mr. Galante's blind spot or was being pointedly ignored as his teacher put his back to him and told the class, "Everyone back to your quiz! Mr. Br-Braginski has been kind enough to provide music."

More giggles erupted, along with one very loud groan from Alfred, as the Quartet lined up and the leader raised his palm gracefully toward the ceiling. "Dearest Sunflower," the leader said, clearly reciting lines, "May you bloom always."

"Make it stop ~" Alfred moaned, standing up his notebook to create a wall to hide his scorching red face behind. He contemplated making a noose out of his uniform's tie.

The Quartet began by snapping their fingers to a beat and the baritone started to sing, "Doooo-doo-doo—dooooo-doo-doo." Alfred scowled at the problem on his screen as, one by one, the other three harmonized to the beat. A growing sense of horror knotted his insides as he recognized the song.

"Please no," he breathed, scarlet-red and his skin hot all over.

But it was. The tenor sang in acapello, "You're just too good to be truuuue ~"

Alfred buried his face in his hands, positive he would burst into flames from humiliation at any moment. Ivan was the prince of darkness, a force of pure evil. And Alfred so wanted to hurt him.

"You be like heaven's touuuuch ~ and I want to hold you so muuuuch ~"

"Oooh-aaah," the others sang in harmony.

Sighs came from the girls all around and snickers from the boys. Alfred's social life was officially dead. One should just stick a fork in it.

"Shoot me. It'll be faster," he muttered, attempting to focus on the quiz as he sank deeper into his seat, waiting for the nightmare to end.

And the tenor continued, "Can take my eyes off of youuuuu ~"

* * *

Today was one of those days Alfred wished he had a flamethrower, or better yet a chainsaw. He took as much as he could carry in one go and dumped the flowers in the nearest trash bin. He stomped on them a few times for good measure and then ran to lunch.

In his haste, he rounded a corner without checking and hardly noticing the open closet door, only to be yanked in suddenly by a brutal jerk on his arm. One moment he had the entrance of the cafeteria in sight and then next he was a in a dark closet. The door shut and his body was pressed up against a metal shelf in the back.

In the dim light he did not so much see Braginski, but smell his minty cologne and recognize him by his looming height. Furious, Alfred swung a fist at him with a rage-filled cry of "You!"

Ivan giggled, dodging with surprising speed in the confined space, and the mop bucket on wheels did not help as it tripped up Alfred, and Alfred was saved from a nasty fall by Ivan who caught him and whirled him around into another metal shelf. Alfred grunted, tailbone banging against the metal edge.

Ivan's arms caged him in and the man loomed over him, one side of his face illuminated by the light from the gap leaking in from the bottom of the door. The whole room stunk of of claustrophobia — sweat, dust, dirt, and various cleaning liquids.

Reaching behind, Alfred felt around for a weapon and, inwardly groaned, at finding the shelf full of paper towels and wash clothes. Not a crowbar or blunt object in reach! They were in the janitor's supply closet.

"Stop kidnapping me!" Words Alfred never imagined he would one day be yelling. "And back the fuck off!"

To his shock, Braginski did and stepped back. That small action left Alfred confused. He had not expected Ivan to listen and why that and not others?

"I want out of the closet!" Alfred yelled, attempting to step around Ivan who remained like a wall in front of the door. "Out of my way, you freak!"

"You're feisty today ~!" Ivan said in a bemused voice.

"It's not feisty! It's pissed! Fucking pissed! Get out of the way!" Alfred said, trying to shove, but Ivan only grabbed his wrist and leaned closer, almost to kissing distance. With a startled cry, Alfred lunged back, again bashing his now-aching tailbone into the shelf. "Stop that! What the hell do you want?"

"You can't be angry," Ivan said, as if this were a fact. His voice had an overly-sweet, saccharine quality. "And we talked about the yelling." Alfred scowled. "Did you enjoy my generous gifts?"

"G-Generous? You call that torture generous?" Alfred laughed, baring his teeth in a forced smile.

"Did you not like the flowers?" Ivan sounded surprised.

"I fucking hated them. I'm allergic," Alfred lied. "Never send me sunflowers again."

"And the Quartet?"

"I fucking hate singing too. Also allergic. Never do that to me again."

Ivan went quiet for a long pause and Alfred sighed, tapping a toe impatiently. He was about to ask, "Are we done?" when Ivan asked, "But the french man said those were romantic things."

"He's an idiot," Alfred said, trying to sidestep Ivan who moved to block the door. "I want to go eat!"

"Da," Ivan said.

"Why we are in the closet?" Suddenly an disturbing thought hit Alfred and he backed away nervously. "What are you planning?"

"To invite you to lunch with me ~" Ivan said in sickly-sweet voice that made Alfred feel as if he had millions of ants crawling over him.

Staring flatly at Ivan, Alfred said, "No."

Then he stepped around and, this time Ivan did not block him. His hand touched the metal handle and the door opened an inched when Ivan's large palm slammed into it, forcing it shut. Ivan's other hand hit the wall and Alfred found himself again caged by man's muscular arms. He felt Ivan's cool breath against his nape and tried to turn around without touching him, but couldn't.

"What is your problem?" Alfred said.

"You should reconsider," Ivan said, breathe tickling Alfred's inner ear and he shivered. It was almost a purr, one that made Alfred tingle all over. He refused to let himself be turned on by this psycho. "I had all your favorite foods made."

"I doubt that. As if you know what I like!" Alfred said.

"But I do. I contacted your former schools and friends."

"You what!" Alfred yelled, craning his head around to glare over his shoulder at Ivan. He could not see the man's expression well, but he could imagine it. "You stalked me? What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"I researched you," Ivan said, sounding proud.

Alfred planted one foot on the door and attempted to pull it open even if it meant pressing his back to Ivan's chest and letting the man's nose push into his hair, but he didn't have good leverage in this position. The door did not open.

Giving up, he leaned away, trying to create space.

"You smell wonderful," Ivan sighed.

"You're so damn creepy," Alfred said. "And you smell like dog shit."

"Do not," Ivan giggled. "Come have dinner with the Iron Quartet."

Alfred snorted, barking a laugh. "C'mon. Iron Quarter? You couldn't get any lamer than if you named yourself the Flower Four! Let me out of the closet! I swear I'm gonna invest in a taser soon!"

"Let's go then ~" Ivan said, at last backing up.

"Without you!" Alfred yelled, ripping open the door and stumbling out. Unfortunately, he tangled in his legs and nearly fell over as he exited. He paused as he righted himself; all the students in the hall stared wide-eyed at him. It hit him like a ton of bricks.

Standing there in disheveled clothes, tie askew, pants wrinkled, and hair mussed up, he cracked a grin and forced a laugh. He was about to say "it's not what it looks like" and make a joke of this, something about getting lost on his way to lunch, when Ivan, evil genius he was, leaned out, wrapping an arm around Alfred's waist, and kissed his cheek.

With a "That was very _pleasurable_ , Sunflower ~" Ivan disappeared back into the supply closet, door shutting with a click. Alfred was left out there, speechless and blushing impossibly red.

He could not even ponder the weirdness of Ivan hiding in the closet, only the evil monstrosity of what Ivan had just done. All across the dozens of faces was a variety of knowing smiles, wide-eyed shock, jealous fury, and mocking looks.

Mind blank, Alfred made things far worse when he blurted out, "We did nothing! He dragged me in against my will!" Snickers and giggles broke out. Furious beyond words, Alfred pounded a fist on the door and yelled at the smug bastard inside, "Ivan! Get out of the closet so I can beat your ass!"

* * *

TBC in… "The Wooing of Alfred F. Jones Pt. II"

* * *

 **Note # 1 —**

Sorry I had to break this up. The reason is because when a chapter gets over a certain size I started to lose motivation to write since I tend to start at the beginning to re-write. I don't if that makes sense, but I find keeping the updates to a certain limit help me continue to get them out.

Hopefully, I'll be able to get the other half of this update out soon.

* * *

 **Note # 2 —** Do you recognize the Quartet's song that they sung to Alfred? Did you recognize Latvia?

* * *

 **Note # 3 —** And that joke about the "Flower Four" was poking fun at the manga. I always thought that name was silly. Four feared guys calling themselves "the flower four". Even in Japanese it is lame.


	7. The Wooing Pt 2

**Acknowledgements -** A very heartfelt thank you to the following for their lovely comments. (Sorry if I forgot anyone. I try to check, mistakes happen). Thank you...

 **starrenPI** (great insight), **wicket, fluffnight** (you're "man" hunt shall fail as you search for wrong gender ;), **PurpleLightning12, AMO, Yami Mizuna, Black Noblesse, Ivy shadow13, Red Phoenix15, pastaaddict, Ashcola 17, Asileme, Anon-Mau5, dance on the brink, Crimson cat angel, and an anon.  
**

* * *

 **The Wooing of Alfred F. Jones (Pt. II)**

* * *

When the waiter, a dark-haired man with a thin mustache like a cartoon villain, came for their orders, Alfred gave his, adding very vociferously, "And nothing Russian! Do you understand? No sunflowers! I want nothing from Braginski! I want a normal, I repeat _normal_ , _happy_ meal. Are we cool, bro?"

The waiter, looking less than amused, nodded mutely. As he started to leave, Alfred caught the sleeve of his black coat and said, "Oh, and can you add bacon?"

"I suppose," the man said dryly.

"And freedom fries too?" At the waiter's questioningly look, he explained, "What? It's a way cooler name than _french_ fries."

"I see," the waiter said in a tight voice, trying to tug free.

"And a chocolate shake? I could really use one of those." He let go at the withering look the man gave him. "Geez, sorry." After the waiter was gone, Alfred leaned over to Toris who kept glancing around nervously. "Geez, what was his problem?"

"Erm… everyone is staring," Toris said in a low voice, fiddling with the white table cloth. When his green eyes were not roving around, they were fixed on his small hands. He had rearranged his cutlery several times already and repositioned the rose and its vase no less than three.

"Chill, Tory," Alfred said, putting his hand over Toris'. The man looked up in surprise. "Your hero is here to protect you."

The side of Toris' left eyebrow twitched slightly as he stared at Alfred. For some reason it did not have the comforting effect Alfred believed it would.

"They're looking at me thanks to a certain _evil_ bastard!" Alfred said very loudly, causing their onlookers to glance away and pretend to not be attempting to overhear. He cast a glare up at the edge of the balcony, hoping his nemesis had heard that.

Even though Toris had reassured him that sometimes seats were assigned in the cafeteria, Alfred had still been suspicious when they were shown to _this_ seat. He had checked and re-checked the table, chairs, and menus while their waiter watched stonily. Satisfied there were no sunflowers or weird surprises, he had sat down.

"Ivan is very… persistent," Toris said.

"It's more than that," Alfred said, lowering his voice before he added, "He's Lex Luthor, the Joker, and Magneto all rolled into one fermented ball of putrid darkness."

Toris laughed, one that said, 'I'm not sure what you're talking about, so I'll laugh'.

"It's true. And punching him makes things worse. The guy thinks its foreplay!" The last part he said too loudly and the word 'foreplay' echoed around the room. Toris's thin face went a shade of pink. "How does he always know where I am? Did he imbed some microchip in me." Alfred patted himself again. He had found no scars. Still… "What if I catch his crazy? It could be contagious."

Toris nodded slowly, fidgeting. "I-I'm sorry. This is my fault. If had licked his shoe…"

Alfred squeezed his hand firmly before he let go. "Don't say that. Never say that. I regret none of it. That bully had it coming. I'll be fine." He held up a hand and, as he listed things, he touched a finger for each item. "All I need is a taser, pepper spray, eyes in the back of my head, and a chainsaw. Simple stuff!"

Toris choked a bit on the water he was sipping. "A chainsaw?"

"Yeah. Chainsaws are suuuper intimidating. You never mess with someone revving one of those things. Ask Mattie ~"

The lights went out, casting them in darkness for a few seconds. The only light came from the tall, glass windows at the back of the cafeteria.

"What now?" Alfred groaned.

Bright light blasted in his face and he threw his up his hands to shield his eyes, squinting between his fingers at the spotlight shining on him. Toris glanced at him in surprise and Alfred noticed weird yellow pieces of paper landing on both Toris and the table.

Grabbing one, he saw in disgust that they were sunflower petals. More floated down from above. His eyes traveled up and up to see Antonio and Francis leaned over the balcony, tossing handfuls of them.

Now he knew the reason for _these_ seats.

"Stop that!" Alfred shouted, jabbing a finger in their direction. "Don't toss shit on us! Not cool, dude!"

"Can't hear you ~ The sweet song of L'amore fills our sensitive ears," Francis called, dropping another handful.

There was a click of Gilbert's phone snapping photos. The albino stood a few feet to the side. While Ivan was not visible, Alfred had no doubt he was watching this from somewhere, likely stroking a Persian cat and giggling maniacally like the super villain he was.

"That is it!" Alfred said, jumping to his feet and slamming his hands so hard on the table, their water glasses jumped and the silverware rattled. "Is murder a crime?"

"Erm…" Toris said and then the music kicked in. Another spotlight shined on the red velvet curtain of the stage that slowly lifted up to reveal an orchestra that began to play an instrumental version of the Police's song "Every Breath You Take".

Alfred backed away from the table to escape the petal assault, but the spotlight followed him. A third turned on to reveal two waiters wheeling out a cart with a platter of hamburgers shaped into a wedding cake, one with two toppers: a blushing sunflower and a snowman in a brown scarf.

"Hell no," Alfred moaned, running a hand through his hair.

Following the hamburgers, came one for donuts, and it spiraled toward rock bottom from there.

He was officially in hell.

* * *

"Can a person die from love-bombing?" Alfred asked, hand shaking as it gripped the handle of his gray locker. He _knew_ stuff had been put in there. Stuff that should not be in there. He could feel it on this side. "What if it's some of tentacle monster made of sunflowers?"

"Erm…" Toris took an additional couple steps back.

"On the count of three," Alfred said. Toris nodded. "One." He glanced around, sure the hallway was clear. "Two." He was still stuffed from lunch — turns out he could not refuse even evil hamburgers served in a creepy wedding cake shape. "Three!"

He threw open his locker and dove into a Parkour Roll across the wooden floor, as if escaping a bomb. By the time he had spun around and bounced back to his feet, dozens and dozens of gift-wrapped items — all in sunflower wrapping — had spilled out.

"More junk," Alfred said, approaching carefully with Toris who came over.

Toris reached up into his locker and plucked off an envelope taped to the side, one with SUNFLOWER written in glittery red letters, and opened it, taking out the card inside.

"Don't open it! It could be poisoned!" Alfred warned, trying to grab it away.

After throwing Alfred a skeptical look, Toris's eyes scanned over the letter.

"Apparently, he gave you a PS4, the latest model I-Phone, some more stuff, and…" Toris frowned. "A one-way ticket to Siberia?"

"What? Give me that!" Alfred said, snatching it away and skipping past Ivan's bizarro writing to the list of presents. "Holy shit! A kindle? Mattie's been dying for one of those." At Toris' surprised look, Alfred added, "N-Not that I'm thinking of keeping them."

But he was totally thinking of selling this stuff. If Ivan wanted to shower him with expensive gifts, then fine. Alfred would make a profit from the stupidity."

"Erm…" Toris squatted down and picked up present with no distinct shape. It crinkled in his hands and he began to open it.

"Hey, don't…" The wrapping opened to reveal a scarf, a sunflower-yellow scarf, one identical to Ivan's except for the color. Alfred backed away, color draining from his face. "Hell no."

* * *

"We should be safe out here. No one comes here," Toris said.

"We are never safe, Not when our opponent is the commie bastard, born of a thousand dark souls rolled into one," Alfred said, crouched a few feet away and peering through the bushes toward the campus ground. The harsh evening light bathed the Pangea building's brick exterior behind them in gold hues. Toris sat on a marble bench, one that had been covered in dead leaves when they arrived, sipping from his Thermos of soup and eating saltines.

"I used to hide back here often. It's very peaceful," Toris said, brushing off the last couple leaves. The dense trees around this clearing hid it from view. Sunlight shined in the dark windows above their grove.

"Being romanced by Ivan is like being crushed to death by a Boa Constrictor. I imagine dating him would be like it swallowing you as well.

Toris sighed.

"I'm sorry this happening. I wish I could do more."

"Being my back-up is enough." Alfred grinned at him and gave a thumbs up, before he went back to his look out. Finally, sure they were save, he went over and plopped down next Toris, grabbing a saltine. As he munched on the tasteless cracker, he said, "Today was insane."

"Yeah… I heard over the intercom."

"Don't remind me," Alfred tipped his head back and stared at the blue sky. For fifth period the school intercom had played that Breakfast Club song "Don't You Forget About Me".

"I heard about English. Did he—."

"We don't speak of English," Alfred cut-in. " _Ever._ "

What happened in English would go with Alfred to the grave.

"I heard of Ivan doing this to another kid once. Last year. He would have been valedictorian if he had stayed. I think his name was Yao."

"He did this to another?" Alfred was puzzled by the strange, prickly feeling in his chest. He should have felt bad for the kid and angry at Ivan, instead he felt a stab of… _jealousy?_ Shaking away the thought, Alfred asked, "What happened to Yao?"

"I don't know. I heard Ivan stalked him until Yao agreed to date. Then both Ivan and Yao stopped coming to school. After a month, Ivan returned. Yao didn't. There are only rumors. And when Ivan came back, that's when he started bullying kids and became terrible."

It was hard to imagine at time when he was not Ivan the terrible. Alfred felt it again that strange twinge in his chest as he wondered what happened.

"It's none of my business," he said. He didn't like this feeling. "Hopefully, that creep will give up soon."

"You don't want to date him?" Toris had a very probing tone and his gaze was very fixed on Alfred.

"What? No way," Alfred said. "I watched Gone Girl — Mattie forced me to watch it with him — and that movie taught you don't date crazy. For all I know Ivan has some twisted sex dungeon somewhere. Probably does. He did offer me some weird Fifty Shades of Contract after all."

His mouth went dry at the image of Ivan clad in leather studded pants, holding a whip, and acting all dominating. That thought was quickly chased away as he reminded himself he was not attracted to a lunatic.

"Al," Toris said, reaching over, his hand paused at Alfred's surprised look. "You have a sunflower petal in your hair."

"What? Where? Get it out before it curses me!" Alfred said, dusting his hair. He stilled when Toris's slender fingers touched the left side of his head and slid through his locks, soft as a ghost, and then came back holding a petal. "Burn it! Send it back to hell!"

Toris chuckled softly and flicked it away. Then he reached into his leather rucksack, resting on his other side, and asked, "C-Can I give you a present? I want to thank you for saving me that day?"

He smiled shyly as he pulled out a small black box with a red leather wrapped around it in a bow.

"Aw, man. You shouldn't have. I don't have anything for you." He beamed at Toris whose cheeks pinked. As he took the box, he hesitated to open it. "If it's a sunflower, I'm gonna be real disappointed."

"Open it," Toris said, bumping his shoulder playfully against Alfred.

"Duuude," Alfred said after opening it, he held the leather wallet with an extensive card-carrying case and slot for a phone he did not posses. It had an American flag and bald eagle on the front. "This is awesome!"

He threw his arms around Toris, yanking him into a bear hug. The other squeaked, but settled against his chest. "You like it?"

"I love it! You're the best!"

There was a sharp crack from far off and Alfred frowned, glancing around. When Toris asked why, he brushed it off with a, "Nothing. I just thought I heard something."

Neither of them noticed the spider-web crack that had appeared in the window of an empty classroom three floors up. Nor the violet eyes that narrowed and grew cold with rage.

* * *

Francis found Ivan in a hall of the Pangea building. He approached him from behind, the first warning something was off were the blood specks left in a trail behind Ivan. His knuckles were bleeding.

The second was Ivan's slow, lethal walk, each of his feet dragging.

"The Americain shall fall into your arms before the week is done!" Francis said, trotting over. "Mon dieu…" He trailed off when he rounded Ivan and saw his face.

Stumbling back, Francis' back hit the wall and he slid down, all power gone from his legs as he watched the hulking form of his friend continue on, drops of blood dripping from the tip of his index finger. The man moved slow and deliberate, continuing down the stairs as if he had not encountered Francis at all.

Francis knew what those dead, empty eyes meant. Something had happened. Something had triggered Ivan again. Clutching at his heart, Francis tried to calm his nerves, not sure he could deal with another of Ivan's "episodes".

They had been happening ever since the Yao incident.

One boy had already been hospitalized. Since Alfred's arrival Ivan had seemed almost back to his old self. What could have gone so wrong?

"No more," Francis said, putting his beautiful face in his soft, well-moisturized palms. He could not take much more.

"Amigo! Donde estaba?" Antonio asked, running over to him. "Que paso?"

Francis looked up and Antonio could see it in his eyes. Thick, black eyebrows drew down around his almond-colored eyes. "Dios helps whoever crosses him."

* * *

TBC in… "A Turn For The Dark"

It's all fun and games until things turn dangerous…

…and there may be no going back. Things take a dark turn (but don't worry this keeps it's T-rating :)

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** The Police song "Every Breathe You Take" is very stalky if you ever heard it. The lyrics go, "Every breath you take, every move you make, every smile you fake, I'll be watching you ~"

* * *

 **Note #2 —** My art teacher would be ashamed of me. In an earlier chapter I called the painting "The Scream" as being by Van Gogh when the painter is actually Edvard Munch. Oh the horror! I'll have to fix that later (one day). I apologize for my incorrect history, perhaps I'm not the best for Hetalia.

* * *

 **Note #3 —** The Parkour Roll is a roll that goes from shoulder to opposite hip that keeps you from being injured in a fall. It is utilized in action movies. It is no wonder Alfred knows it.

* * *

 **Note #4 —** The ticket to Siberia is reference to a joke from Hetalia canon.

* * *

 **Note # 5 —** Do you know why Toris carries a thermos of soup and eats saltines? It's a reference to one of his Hetalia character traits.


	8. A Turn For The Dark

**Note #1 —** Daaaaam. Over 23 comments the last chapter. I'll do an acknowledgements in either the next chapter or the one after. I hope I don't miss anyone. If you write a comment and don't get acknowledged, let me know.

* * *

 **Note # 2 —** Toris is actually playing a combined role from two characters in the manga Boys Over Flowers. Originally the protagonist (Tsukino) falls in love with a member of the F4. But I never liked the drama that produced, it always felt forced. So I made something more delicious. I have plans for Toris. _Evil_ plans.

* * *

 **A Turn For The Dark**

* * *

Alfred arrived to the narrow alley, one hidden from sight of Hetalia's main entrance by a thick copse of trees, out of breath and sweaty. He did not have enough energy to greet Tony in his usual way.

The bike stood in the center slot of a bike rack made for ten. As always, Tony was alone. Cigarette butts, looking like white maggots littering the ground, were the sole sign that others, beside Alfred and the janitors, ever visited here.

He jumped a little in surprise when the lamp — a device that detected motion — turned on above Tony, casting its sickly yellow light in a circle that made the alley's cool blue shadows, darker and deeper somehow.

Arm scraping along the grimy brick for support, Alfred stumbled toward Tony, past the blue dumpster on the opposite wall and the grey metal door next to it. The stench of trash always lingered here. His sneakers crunched on dead leaves, ones blown in by breezes. A couple leaves stuck to the bottom of his soles.

With a sigh of relief, he slung off his duffle bag and backpack — both looking ready to explode at the seams — and dropped them with a plop. He stretched out his arms and rubbed his sore shoulders. It felt good to be back in his hoodie, shirt, and red jogging pants. For some reasons, Toris had stared in disbelief when Alfred, after sitting on his bags a few times, managed to zip both shut. Inside were every single one of Ivan's gifts.

Toris had suggested a preposterous idea: that Alfred leave a few at school overnight. Madness! Alfred _never_ took more than one trip to any store, even if that meant carrying stuff home in his teeth. Phrases like "back injury" and "risk of hernia" were for inefficient people like Matthew who fretted over health care.

After another glance at the mouth of the alley, Alfred squatted down and set to work on his bike lock, using the most brilliant combination in the world: 0704501

With a pop, the lock came off and he pulled the heavy chain from Tony's back tire. He was about to take out the bungee cord from the front pocket of his duffle bag when the snap of a twig rocketed Alfred to his feet. He spun around, chain held back, ready to be swung, and saw a hulking shape, one darker than the other shadows.

His first thought was "zombie", his second was "zombie Ivan", and his third, coming from his more rational side, was "Ivan". He recognized his silhouette and frowned, noticing Ivan held a long, thin object in his right hand. One that looked like a pipe.

"What do you want?" Alfred called. "I'm in no mood for any of your surprises!"

Ivan took a couple tottering steps forward, walking in a slow, lumbering way, one that felt off. Alfred swallowed hard, feeling nervous. Ivan's lower half came into the light and then he stopped. A chill ran up Alfred's spine to realize Ivan was holding a pipe, a faucet pipe.

 _If he brings out his pipe, you're in trouble_ , Toris had said.

Alfred's mind numbed. Toris had meant an actual pipe?

"I'm in no mood for your crap," Alfred said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He wanted to play it cool. "I gotta get to work."

A shrill giggle bubbled out of Ivan; a sound that echoed throughout the alley and erupted goosebumps across Alfred's flesh. There was wrongness beyond words in that noise.

His grip tightened on his bike chain, until the links dug into his palm. He inched toward the door, watching Ivan warily and Ivan watched him. Those eyes glinted with light from the lamp. Even more disturbing, Ivan's head turned slowly, following Alfred's movement.

"What do you want?" Alfred asked, voice cracking. He grabbed the cold, metal handle of the door and turned. Locked.

Ivan grunted. He stepped further into the light that revealed the bottom of his face, pale lips curved in a mirthless smile. In hollow voice, Ivan said, "You made a fool of me."

Alfred's gaze darted to the dumpster, wondering if he could leap onto the lid and scramble over before Ivan got to him. "That's bullshit! You harassed and humiliated me!"

"Shut up, whore!" Ivan snapped darkly, almost growled. "You're like all the others. You deceived me."

"You're out of your mind," Alfred said, heart pounding. What was wrong with Ivan?

Patting the pipe against his open palm, Ivan said tenderly, "They took the other as evidence."

 _Evidence?_ Alfred nearly repeated in alarm. Deciding to change tactics, he slapped on his most charming grin and said, "H-Hey, let's calm down, big guy. Put the pipe away and let's talk."

"Don't," Ivan said, pointing the end of the pipe at Alfred very deliberately for a moment. "That grin you used for him."

"Wh-what?" Alfred said, confused. "What're you…"

He trailed off as Ivan stepped fully into the light. Alfred threw his back into the wall, turning the handle rapidly, even though he knew it was futile. His panicked mind wouldn't listen. Ivan looked at Alfred, but did not seem him. His eyes were as dead and empty as that day he poured tomato juice over that kid. In fact, they were worse. There was nothing in them.

Ivan looked murderous.

"Stay the fuck away!" Alfred cried, hefting the chain in a threatening way. Ivan regarded it as no more than a worm. He smirked. With his free hand, Alfred pounded a fist on the door. "Hey! Someone! Open the door! Open it now!"

"No one is coming," Ivan said coldly. "No one dares oppose me in this school. You are mine."

"Fuck you!" Alfred said. If he could visualize Ivan's aura, he imagined it would be a purple thing with sunflower-shaped tentacles broiling off it. "I'm not yours."

Ivan's gaze darkened and he said, "That is why I must teach you."

"Teach wh—."

Ivan exploded into motion, charging at Alfred with alarming speed. Swinging the chain, Ivan arced up with his pipe and caught the blow. The chain wrapped several times around the pipe and, before Alfred could let go, Ivan reversed his momentum and yanked downward. Alfred was dragged off-balance, free arm pinwheeling, and bashed his knee on the ground, catching himself on his hands.

Before he could recover, Ivan shoved him to his stomach. His left cheek whammed into the leaf-strewn concrete and Texas was forced up the right side of his face. He gasped in pain, wind knocked out.

There was the clatter of the pipe and chain being cast aside. Then Ivan sat on his back, his knees straddling Alfred's sides. Although Alfred struggled and writhed, screaming out every profanity his panicked and enraged brain could think of, he could not get free. Ivan was too heavy.

Soon his wrists were snatched up and held above his head by one of Ivan's large hands. He continued to shout threats and curses, promising all the ways he would kill Ivan. Alfred stilled and went silent when Ivan leaned over and whispered darkly in his ear, "This is your fault. I must punish you."

Ivan's minty cologne filled his nostrils and his blood ran cold as he realized Ivan's intentions. _No! No! No!_ his mind screamed. He went wild, bucking and wriggling.

Ivan's free hand petted his hair and then down, groping his back and down.

"Don't you dare!" Alfred shouted. "I'll kill you!"

Ivan giggled, then snapped the waistband of Alfred's jogging pants, a sound that reverberated in Alfred's mind. He squeezed his eyes shut when those cool fingers slid under his pants and boxers to cup the cheek of his buttocks and squeeze.

"St-stop! You can't!" Alfred yelled, tears stinging his eyes. He despised how his body responded to Ivan's touch. This could not be happening.

He continued to fight, refusing to give in. Wet lips pressed against his nape as Ivan kissed and sucked at the skin there, as if attempting to mark him. Alfred's skin flushed all over.

And then the dam broke in him. Salty tears flowed freely, blurring his vision, and waves of shame rolled through him. His chest hitched in a sob and he began to cry.

The hero was crying.

"I hate you," he said, sniffling.

And then Ivan stopped and removed his hands. He climbed off, forcing Alfred to roll onto his back. He swatted Ivan away, scrambling away until his back hit the wall and there he cried, head lowered. Every time he scrubbed away the tears, more appeared.

"Don't cry," Ivan said, almost gently, following him, staying knelt in front of him. Alfred kicked at him until Ivan backed away.

"Don't come near! I'll fucking kill you if you come near!" Alfred shouted, wiping his eyes clear. Clear enough to see that Ivan looked normal again. Looked like he was back and looked very nervous and worried. "Don't ever come near me again! You disgust me! You're a monster!"

"Don't say that," Ivan said, shaking his head. "I wasn't myself. I won't do anymore. Please don't hate me."

"SHUT UP!" Alfred roared and Ivan flinched. "Stop telling me what to feel you son of a bitch! Have you any idea what you did?"

What appeared to be shame tinged Ivan's features. "I… I wasn't myself. It was an accident. Sunflow—"

"My name is Alfred. Al-FRED! I'm not your toy! Your Sunflower. Your anything! I loathe you. Do you get it? Stay the fuck away from me!"

"N-Nyet. I can fix this," Ivan said, reaching for Alfred whose hand curled into a fist. He was about to swing when a loud whirring noise punctured the air and a thin metal dart slammed into the side of Ivan's neck.

A look of shock passed over Ivan's face as he reached for it, then his eyes lolled up and he slumped forward, collapsed onto Alfred's lap. A stunned Alfred looked from the now sleeping Ivan toward the entrance of the alley where a figure stood, holding what looked like a handgun.

He tensed, sure he would be shot when the man held up his hands and said, "Relax, Mr. Jones. I won't hurt you."

"You're… you're…" Alfred sputtered, recognizing the voice. He pointed at the man. "You're that butler!"

"Call me Germania. That was my nickname in the Second Great War," he said, stepping into the light. Alfred caught a glimpse of what looked like a mini-tranquilizer gun that he holstered inside his dark grey coat. The yellow light gave Germania's gray hair a blonde hue.

"You shot your boss," Alfred said stupidly, standing up, letting Ivan drop to the ground.

"He'll wake in a few hours. Bright and chipper as always," Germania said with a wink. "Technically, his mother is my boss, but I've been loyal to the family since his grandfather saved my life," Germania said, smiling as he came over. "My grandson, Gilbert, called me and informed me that Ivan was having an episode. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"An episode?" Alfred asked. "Does this happen often?"

"I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this," Germania said, stopping to pick up the pipe and chain. He winced, rubbing at the small of his back before unwrapping the chain from the pipe. "Is this yours?"

Alfred leaned over and snatched his chain back.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Advising you. Mrs. Braginski is very protective of her childrens' welfare. She has a way of making problems go away." He kept his gaze fixed on Alfred who refused to bend to the pressure of his. With a smile, one that the lines around his face always showed, he asked, "I don't suppose I could convince you to help me get him in the limo."

"Hell no. I've had enough of touching him," Alfred said, stepping over Ivan to get to his bike. He stopped when Germania caught him by his upper arm. "What?"

Germania let go. With a sigh, he opened his coat. Alfred tensed, worried it would be a weapon, instead the man pulled out a leather wallet and opened it, pulling out a couple hundred dollars to offer to Alfred. "For your troubles."

Alfred was about to turn it down, but then he thought of all he had gone through. He took it. "Still not helping you. Have fun dragging him across campus."

"He had been doing better since meeting you," Germania said. "It had been a miracle turn around. That's why I let my guard down."

"Who cares," Alfred said, pulling Tony out. "Not my problem."

"I'm not condoning his actions and I won't ask you to forgive him, but please understand. Ivan is very lonely. He has never how to make people genuinely like him."

"Aw, poor little prince," Alfred mocked. "He's got the genuinely hate him part down. He has all the money in the world, but can't find love. Cry me a fucking river."

"Is he so beyond pity because he's rich?"

"He's beyond pity because he's awful."

"Do you consider him fortunate?" Germania asked as Alfred threw the bag on the bike and began strapping it to the back with the bungee cords he had pulled out as fast he could.

"Who wouldn't? He's filthy rich?"

"His family is rich. His mother controls all of it. A mother who has never been affectionate to her children. His elder sister tried to be a source of love, but she cannot replace uncaring parents."

"If you're trying to make me feel sorry for him, it won't work."

"You are starved for money and he is for love. Who of you should be pitied?"

Alfred frowned, glancing at Ivan who, asleep, looked almost peaceful and innocent. He shook his head and glanced at the darkening sky. "I have to go. I'm already way late. My brother will freak."

"If you help me get him into the limo, I can get you wherever you need to be on time. Your brother won't have to worry."

"Forget it. I'm not riding with him."

"He'll be unconscious the whole time. You can ride in the passenger seat with me and we can put your bike —."

"Tony."

"Tony in the trunk. Do you really want to carry all that down that steep hill?"

Alfred paused, frowning in thought. Matthew would worry and the thoughts of going down those curves with this much weight when dusk was so close…

"Fine," he said, "Let's get this jerk back."

Germania gave a very triumphant smile.

"When he wakes, you tell him never to approach me again!"

"I will inform the master of this," Germania said.

"He better listen."

As they carried Ivan between them, Alfred thought of Germania's words and Ivan's. How Ivan had begged, _Don't hate me_. And when Alfred had said, _you buy friends, Ivan_. Could it be that Ivan didn't know how to obtain love except by money?

Alfred chased the thought away. He refused to pity someone like Ivan who had everything. Even if he really had nothing.

* * *

TBC in… "Yellow-Carded"

Inside a locker waits a very unfortunate surprise…

Alfred said nothing about if _he_ approached Ivan. And Ivan intends to make sure Alfred doesn't have a choice.

* * *

 **Note #1 —** One reason this update took longer than others is because I had to completely redo what I had planned for it. It was originally supposed to take place with Alfred riding down the hill and the limo drives him off the road. But the logistics didn't work and I had to scrap the whole scene.

I settled on the attack happening in the bike parking area since Alfred would be very isolated there.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** I thought about being mean and pulling a nasty April 1st prank on my viewers, maybe a "DISCONTINUED" But I decided that could incite a riot and many might not find it funny.

* * *

 **Note # 3 —** For those who have read the manga you may remember the infamous "assault" scene. This is based on that. It never appears in the drama, as it is considered too "ick". I was going to cut it out myself, not sure how to work with it, but then I find a way to do so. So even it looks bleak now, things will work out in time.


	9. Yellow Card

**Acknowledgements —** Thanks you everyone for busting a 100 reviews! I am amazed by this story's response and it keeps me working hard to get out weekly updates.

Special thanks to …

 **Zen4365** , **placedesiredname** (welcome to the fandom. Now you can never leave :), **AMO, Wicket,** **Starren PI** (what's truly scary? I've seen a hamburger wedding cake…), **Night-Chan-Dragon-Eyes** , **Bippityboo** , **Dreams-Wishes-Hopes** , **Iron Rose Writer** , **Asileme** , **Bruhgypt** , **pastaadict** (bwuhahaha), **fluffnights** , **BlackNobless** , **DyingStars04** , **RedPhoenix15** (all shall be revealed in time), **TrefleV,** **SparklePaws** (that poor cat…), **Anon-Mau5, Arya Scarlett14** , **ivyshadow 13, Scribe of Nyx,** **Insanity 21** (Congrats! You're the 100th reviewer! *firework celebration* *virtual hug*) **,** **nicolai87** (Alfred's glasses are called Texas because they represent Texas in Hetalia canon :), **Rus us, Shewolf-skittles-twist14** , **Carol Cosplay,** **Ashcola 17** , **kawtharthegreat** , and three **anons**.

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** For those unfamiliar with it. The movie _Labyrinth_ was a Jim Henson production that came out in 1986 and starred David Bowie as the Goblin King, Jareth. It bombed at the box office, but went on to become a cult classic. I've always felt that Norway's character would be partial to the funny-looking goblins and creatures depicted in the movie since he seems to have a fondness for the more "misshapen" magical creatures (orcs, ogres, trolls, goblins, ect.) while England is more partial to the cute stuff (fairies, unicorns, pixies ect.)

* * *

 **Yellow-Carded**

* * *

It was no secret that Alfred's boss, Lukas, worshiped the movie _Labyrinth._ Every Halloween the man dressed as the Goblin King, Jareth, after all. This was why every spare foot of dark green wall in the Pancake Factory's backroom had a faded, vintage _Labyrinth_ poster. Thus, under the watchful eyes of over six David Bowies, Alfred and Matthew often had to change clothes in the dimly-lit room that smelled of damp mothballs.

Alfred burst into the room, throwing the side door open so hard against the wall it knocked off a piece of dry wall that crashed to the floor. Alfred hardly noticed. He dropped his bags on the concrete floor and stripped off his clothes as he stumbled toward his dark blue, rather dented locker.

After retrieving his spare uniform, he was just popping his head through the top when he heard a stern, "You're late."

"Mattie!" He whipped around so fast he almost fell over. "'Sup, bro?"

His brother stood, leaned out of the door of the kitchen from which the odor of pancakes and bacon wafted; his hair was scooped up in a net. The big yellow water stain in the ceiling matched Matthew's hair color exactly in Alfred's opinion.

"D-Did something happen?" He eyed Alfred up and down. "You look like you fell off Tony."

"Don't be stupid," Alfred said quickly, putting his back to his brother as he shoved a leg into his slacks. "Tony would never betray me like that."

As he slid the belt through the hoops of his pants, a finger tugged on the back of his collar. Startled, he yelped and spun around, throwing his back into a spare locker. He was relieved to see it was only Matthew who had crept up behind him and not a ghost. "The hell, Mattie! We talked about this. You can't use your freaky ninja powers to scare people!"

Matthew had a very serious look: his pink lips were pursed and his brow was scrunched together. In a somber tone, he said, "You have a hickey on your nape."

A hot blush took over Alfred's face at the same moment a knot of dread crawled into his insides. The words ' _You have a hickey'_ ran on repeat in his head, echoing louder in his brain.

Desperate for a way to prevent Matthew from knowing the truth, Alfred blurted out, "It's not a hickey."

Alfred could face-palm.

"C'mon. Who did you make out with? That Toris fellow?"

"It's not a hickey," Alfred repeated, voice growing harder.

"It's obvi—."

"It's not a hickey!" Alfred slammed his fist into the locker, causing Matthew to jump in surprise. A pang of guilt shot through him at Matthew's worried expression. In a softer tone, he said, "Let's talk after work. 'Kay?"

"All right," Matthew said finally, lowering his head. He disappeared back into the kitchen.

The door swung for a couple moments and then settled back into place. The poster on the back had a very prominent Jareth staring out, holding up a crystal orb with the world of the labyrinth underneath. Somehow Jareth's gaze felt accusing.

Alfred scowled and finished dressing. He felt like he had his own personal goblin king to fight. One named Ivan.

"A hickey," he cursed under his breath.

After fishing out some bandaids from the first aid kit, he covered up Ivan's mark and went to work.

* * *

"B-But…" Matthew trailed off. He had been trying to form a response to Alfred's wild story of yesterday and so far had only managed a "M-Maple". Matthew's way of not cussing. "That… and the teachers _allowed_ it?"

"Yup. He runs that place." Alfred leaned back in the booth seat.

Matthew sat on the other side, tracing a circle on the formica table with his forefinger. "Th-that's crazy. So Ivan likes you? He's gay?"

"Gay for me at least. I mean, it _is_ me." Matthew gave him a very unamused stare. "I'm sure he'll get bored eventually."

"Erm… and you're keeping the gifts? Is that all right?"

"Well, returning them would mean seeing Ivan. Not happening. And throwing them away is such a waste. So I'll make a profit 'til he gets the message," Alfred said.

"Y-You don't think he'll do anything dangerous, do you?" Matthew asked.

Alfred had left out several details, the ones that would freak Matthew out and cause him to inform their parents. Things like the kidnapping and the assault. Alfred knew his family would pressure him to drop out and likely attempt to sue if they found out. He also could not bring himself to admit that he had cried.

"Nah. Ivan's not that crazy," Alfred lied. He flashed a grin at his brother and slid out of the booth, grabbing the broom leaned against it. "You'll be the first to know if things get out of hand."

"A-Al," Matthew said, standing up and catching his arm. "Promise me, you will be careful."

"Ain't I always?" Alfred beamed at his brother, noting how Matthew's eyes kept flickering towards his nape. "Let's hurry and close. Don't want to sleep here."

Matthew nodded and let go. After his brother disappeared into the kitchen, Alfred paused in his enthusiastic sweeping of the tiled floor and whispered, "I promise."

The hero always triumphed, so he believed.

* * *

Although Katyusha loved her younger brother dearly, she sometimes wanted to strangle him, especially when he ignored time zone differences. Her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, waking her and her husband.

With a "sorry", she grabbed her smart phone and her teal-colored satin robe and hurried out into the hall. Only moonlight from a window at the end gave any light to the hallway, illuminating the various antique vases, sculptures, and portraits decorating it. All works from across Asia; her husband was quite the collector.

After slipping on her robe, she punched the call button and asked tartly, "Do you have any idea what time it is here?"

" _Sestra_ ," Ivan said, using Russian, something he mixed up when drunk. "I need your advice."

The slur in his words gave it away. She bit her lip, digging a toe against the lavish rug. He sounded very depressed, something most missed when Ivan spoke in that weird high-pitched voice he sometimes used. He said he did that to relax people because he read in a book that deeper tones were more threatening and he would not hear otherwise on the matter.

"Vanya, have you been drinking?" she asked. Mind still groggy with sleep.

"N-Nyet," he said. Ivan could hide it really well, so if it was this obvious then he must have had a lot.

"You promised you wouldn't lie to me."

"I haven't. I'm still a bit tranquilized. Nothing serious." He said this as if that were a normal thing.

"Tr-tranquilized? Who tranquilized you?"

"Germania. Don't worry. It was for the best. I wasn't myself," Ivan said.

She tensed. These episodes had started last year.

Before she could ask what happened, he continued, "What do I do if someone in love with me says 'never approach me again'?"

Katyusha held her phone away, staring at it with a lifted eyebrow. She wanted to say 'are you kidding me?', instead she said into the receiver, "Well, Vanya, you respect their wish and give them space."

During the long pause that followed, she stopped at the ornate mirror in the hall to examine her heart-shaped face. The ghostly blue light of her phone screen gave her a ghastly appearance. In normal light her robe would match the color in her round eyes.

Finally, Ivan said, "Unacceptable. How can they confess to me if I don't approach them?"

She wanted to beat her forehead against a wall. Ivan and her mother did not get along, yet were so alike. They were both stubborn as mules and could project a terrifying aura when needed.

"Vanya," she began sternly. "I love you, yet you are thick. We have talked about this. Remember? You cannot force people to like you. You must let them approach you."

Another long pause. When he spoke again, he sounded cheerful. "Thank you, sister. You have helped me greatly. Now I understand. I must be like the anglerfish in the deep ocean. I must lure him to me. Force him to approach me by any means necessary."

"Good. I'm glad to hear… wait, _what?_ "

There was a click as he hung up, followed by the dial tone. For a moment she gaped at her phone, worried about what Ivan meant.

"Oh no," she said. "What did I do?"

* * *

"I can't believe it. It seems unreal," Alfred said from his position, leaned against a locker, watching Toris try to remember the combination to his locker. "Ivan never bothered me once today. Did he just give up?"

Alfred had a hard time believing that and an even harder time dealing with the strange disappointment in his chest. Maybe he really had caught some of Ivan's crazy. In every class he had waited on pins and needles for some surprise. But nothing happened. No being dragged into a closet or Quartets.

This should make him happy.

Students milled about the hallway, one that looked more reminiscent of an old English manor than a school. They chatted in groups; many wore modified uniforms, pushing the dress code to the limits.

"You think it's some kind of trick?"

"I hope not," Toris said, hunched over his locker. There was a click. "Finally."

"Who forgets the combination to their own locker?" Alfred said. He never forgot his because it was awesome.

"I get very…" Toris went silent when he opened his locker and a square yellow paper with a scarlet stamp of IQ on the front fell out and slid into the middle of the floor. Color drained from his face and he went stock still.

Silence rippled down the hall as all the students turned and the ones behind responded to the reaction of those that could see it. Suddenly, a male student bellowed, "It's a yellow-card! Toris Laurinitis has been yellow-carded!"

"What? What's going on?" Alfred asked.

The clamor grew and the student started to crowd. They had very dark grins.

"Run," Toris breathed, staring wild-eyed at Alfred.

"Huh?"

Toris latched onto his wrist, dragging Alfred behind him as he screamed, "Run!"

A bug-eyed Alfred glanced over his shoulders as students chased after them. They ducked and wove among the ones in front, Alfred knocked one kid aside, and they barreled down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The mob was hot on their heels.

Was this an insane asylum or a school?

Alfred had a gut feeling Ivan was behind this.

* * *

TBC in… "Said the Spider To The Fly"

Alfred has had enough. And he has it out with Ivan. Will the message sink in?

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** The anglerfish — if you never heard of it — lives in the deep ocean. The females have a light that hangs in front of them and attracts prey. When the prey get too close to the light, the anglerfish swallows them whole.


	10. Said The Spider To The Fly (Pt 1)

**Note # 1 —** Thank you everyone. Your comments, favs, and likes keep my motivation levels at over 9000! I am also working on an update for "The Omega Fairy".

* * *

 **Note #2 —** I had to split this chapter. Writing that long from Francis' POV tired me. More the bottom for why.

* * *

 **Said The Spider To The Fly**

* * *

 _That year a wretched brute affronted beauty and love itself; he struck me in this perilously gorgeous face of mine. The angels wept. I had to be rushed to the hospital for emergency plastic surgery. And that wasn't the worst. Oh, no! I was forced — against my will — to wear a far too concealing hospital gown, one not a work of any acclaimed french designer. A truly dark time for me._

 _Upon my return to school, Ivan and my friends promised a delicious surprise._

 _In place of the wining and dining — possible foursome? — I had hoped for, they led the lovely me to a balcony, one that overlooked that vicious brute's locker._

 _Out slipped a red card — the first — when he opened it and I watched — I'm loathe to admit — with a tinge of sadistic glee as the students mobbed him and drove him out of Hetalia._

 _"A red card means rid Hetalia of the chosen worm," Ivan explained._

 _None of us were punished. All the students kept silent. As it did my ancestor, Napoleon Bonnaparte, this newfound power soon consumed us. We became four kings casting decrees from afar._

 _I fancied us musketeers, yet in truth we were tyrants. Nations unto ourselves._

 _—-_ **Excerpt from** _"Memoir Of A Beautiful Man"_ **by Francis Bonnaparte**.

* * *

 _"Monsieur Braginski_!" Francis's deep, velvety voice rang down the evening-lit hallway of the Pangea Building's top floor.

Although in a hurry, he walked at a languid pace for fear of causing himself to sweat. That would ruin his fantastic complexion, not to mention his Chanel-designed cerulean coat, a perfect match for his downturned eyes.

He paused before the oaken double doors of their hangout area — a room formerly for boring conferences — and tossed one side of his blue _capelet_ over his shoulder and smoothed out a tiny wrinkle on crimson red pants.

A smack of balls hitting into each other came from inside, a sign that Antonio and Gilbert were playing pool again around the table at the room's center.

Grabbing the handles of the walnut doors, Francis threw them open and, with cleft chin lifted, strolled in, opening his arms wide, as he announced, "The ambassador of love and beauty has returned!"

Antonio and Gilbert glanced from their game with nothing more than mild curiosity. Gilbert stood on one side, rubbing a blue chalk square on the end of his cue stick.

Further past them, staring out the large windows on the opposite wall, stood Ivan, hands clasped and resting on the small of his back. The evening sun bathed him in gold hues.

Francis jabbed an accusing finger in Ivan's direction and called, "Tell the beautiful me, it's not true! That you did not yellow-card that plain boy who lacks taste!"

Ivan showed no reaction. Francis strode forward, the footsteps of his chestnut-brown boots muffled by the sea-green carpet. Francis gestured animatedly with his hands as he said, "So it's true! This is a disaster of titanic proportion! Have you lost your mind?"

"All right," Gilbert said, blowing off the excess chalk from the end of his cue stick. "What's the big deal about the bastard yellow-carding someone?"

Francis paused, eyeing their clothing. Why did know one listen to his advice? Yet again Gilbert had worn that horrid green military coat of his with all the buckles, worse it was open in the front to display his ratty white T-shirt with a Teutonic Cross print on the front. Antonio was only a little better in his mid-chest red jacket and black designer-cut jeans.

"Do you not understand? The plain boy is the American's friend!" Francis flourished his hand.

Antonio merely rolled his eyes. Gilbert shrugged and said, "So what? Who gives a shit if the American likes him. Relationship s are just a pain in the ass. Give me a quick fuck and then get the fuck out."

With that, Gilbert turned back to the game and leaned over the table, lining up his shot.

Francis gave a loud sniff. "Sex is meaningless without romance."

"Sex with my five meters is awesome, romance or not," Gilbert said over his shoulder.

Francis threw up his hands and walked until right behind Ivan. When Ivan continued to ignore him, he said, " _Mon Lapin!"_ Ivan stiffened at hearing what Francis used to call him in primary school. Craning his head around to stare at Francis with eyes that were back to normal, Francis continued his rant. "Why did you do this? If you had only listened to me, the American would soon be falling into your arms. A man like him must be wined and dined and showered in affection. He will be angered by your attack on his plain friend."

Ivan smiled, a small giggle bubbling out of him. In a sickly-sweet tone, he said, "That's the idea."

There was a loud smack of balls running into each other and rolling around on the green velvet and the sound of a couple falling into pockets. Several curses in Spanish followed from Antonio while Gilbert bragged of his awesome skills.

"Wh-what?" Francis managed after a pause.

Ivan turned around and leaned his back against the glass. He waved a hand at the doors and said, "Any moment now he will burst in here, demanding I remove the yellow-card. And when he does, I will force him to confess his undying love for me."

Francis only gaped in horror. Finally, words came and he said softly, "Y-you cannot be serious! Love cannot be forced. I've told you that!"

Ivan's face darkened, his smile faltering. In a sour tone, he said, "Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm not forcing love. I'm forcing him to be honest about his love for me."

Francis smacked his palm against his forehead and then massaged the bridge of his nose. "Truly, _mon lapin_ , you're mind works in diabolical ways."

Either ignoring the sarcasm or oblivious to it, Ivan said, "Thank you! My plan is brilliant. I left instructions earlier with certain students that a yellow card would appear today. When it did, they were to make sure my Sunflower heard. I knew he would rush to aid his little _comrade_ ," his lips twisted in disgust around that word, "and they would be driven here. Now he will have to approach me."

"I see," Francis said. "Best of luck with that."

Mentally exhausted from this, Francis walked over to his corner — each had personalized one in this room — and sat down in the cushioned seat of his rose pink vanity. He had better things to worry over, such as his hair and skin regiment.

As he moisturized and sprayed on Chanel No. 5 perfume, he glanced at Ivan in his mirror's reflection watching the man stare more and more impatiently at the door. Finally, Ivan began to pace.

After fifteen minutes, he said, "Where is he? He should be here by now."

"Maybe the asshole got lost," Gilbert teased.

"That is true!" Ivan said suddenly, causing the others to jump. He had a look of realization. "He is very simple-minded. He may not realize how to get upstairs." Francis laughed until he saw that Ivan was being serious. With a "I'm thirsty", Ivan headed for the door.

"Going to look for him?" Francis called, twisting around in his seat.

Ivan went stock-still and then turned, aura darkening. Francis regretted his teasing words and nearly fell out of his chair, backing away into his wardrobe as Ivan came over. Looming over him, Ivan said icily, "I am _not_ approaching him. I only crave a liquid sustenance from the vending machine downstairs. That is all. I am _not_ approaching him. Do you understand?"

"B-but of course, _mon cheri_ ," Francis stammered. "It is very dry in here. You only want a drink."

Ivan's bright, childish smile reappeared and he said cheerfully, "Glad you understand."

After he was gone, Francis sank back onto his chair, nervous he had sweated just then. He heard Antonio mutter, "He becomes _mas loco_ every day," and Gilbert grunted an agreement.

"Who wouldn't go mad when they don't have this lovely countenance to admire every day." Francis winked and blew a kiss at his own reflection.

* * *

Thank God Alfred didn't have work today. He'd have missed his shift. He felt like Batman trapped in Arkham Asylum and all the inmates had been let out.

Toris and he were crouched on opposite sides of a classroom door on the third floor, ears pressed to the wall, listening. There was only silence outside.

"Are they gone?" he mouthed to Toris who was as caked in powder and drying egg yolk and eggshell fragments as Alfred was. He had no idea where the students go the eggs and flour from, but they had thrown them.

Toris leaned forward and carefully cracked open the door, sliding his small, square mirror through to check the hallways. He glanced at Alfred and whispered, "All clear."

"Thank God," Alfred breathed, relaxing against the cream-colored wall. Toris did the same.

Both of them stunk from the garbage cans that had been overturned on them. A splotch of ketchup from a used wrapper stained the stitched Hetalia logo on Alfred's uniform, along with numerous other stains from who knows what. It was going to be hell to clean himself up. He had no idea how he would explain this to Matthew without telling the truth. "Hey Mattie, funny story. I tripped and fell into a dumpster," did not seem like a plausible excuse.

"Ivan," he breathed, hands curling into his fists. Between their fleeing, hiding, and running, Toris had managed to explain that the yellow-card were 'warnings' sent by the Iron Quartet that meant the student body was to "bully" a student. The red card meant an "expulsion" from the school by the Iron Quartet.

It sounded so twisted to Alfred.

 _Ivan, Ivan_ , he thought. He had to find him. What more could the man do to Alfred?

"Do you think it's safe to leave?" Toris whispered nervously.

Alfred stood up, legs aching fro all the running. "You stay here. I'll find us a way out."

"B-But…"

"They're mainly after you. Remember?" Alfred said. "C'mon. I'll be back."

He tried to say that like the Terminator, yet Toris only looked mystified. So he gave a thumb's up and a grin.

Then Alfred opened the door and slid into the empty, darkened hallway, closing the door behind him. As he searched each of the staircases, he saw students waiting on the next floor down, as if guarding. That was curious.

Now that he thought about it, it had felt as though they were driven here.

When he found the emergency exit, he worried the alarm would sound when he pushed on the door. To his relief, it didn't. The metal door opened out onto the landing of an exterior screen stairway, wide enough for two people. It had a handrail enclosed in a wire screen.

The smell of fresh air felt so good.

No sooner had he stepped out and shut the door, than a high-pitched voice from above called, "Sunflower! What a coincidence? You felt like using the fire escape as well?"

He froze, right foot hovering above the first step and craned his head upwards. Through the steel-iron screen of the landing he saw Ivan staring down at him in a pleased way.

"I was thirsty," Ivan chimed, smiling brightly. "I in no way _approached_ you!"

Alfred ground his teeth together, right hand balling into a fist. "You!" he snarled, seeing red. "This is your fault!"

He charged up the stairs and, as if believing Alfred would run into his hug, Ivan opened his arms wide.

* * *

TBC in… "Said The Spider To The Fly Pt. 2"

Next update includes a bonus "What's in Their Corner?"

* * *

 **Note #1 —**

Am I alone in finding France difficult to write in a real world AU setting?

While he is a great side character, his character traits don't lend well to being deepened and explained. The more you try to explain why a man likes to brag of his "beauty", flash others, and cop a feel the weirder he becomes.

I feel Russia and England are much easier to work with. Both their traits (Russia's creepiness and England's inability to express his feelings right) can be painted as "social awkwardness". It makes sense that they are outcasts. Strangely, enough those same traits can make them as "feared leaders". And those traits work well for humor as well as sympathy.

They are natural "weirdos". Whereas Francis' traits, if painted realistically, should make him an "outcast" as well. Yet in Hetalia canon he is actually a very well like nation and one of the more socially outgoing.

It is hard to believe someone who actually behaved like France, no matter how good looking, would be very popular if put in a real world setting (like an AU).


	11. Said The Spider To The Fly (Pt 2)

_"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."_

— Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

 **Said The Spider To The Fly (Pt. 2)**

* * *

The last step tripped Alfred. With a yelp, he fell forward and collided into Ivan, face smashing into the man's broad chest. Before he could react he was engulfed in a bear hug and lifted to his tiptoes.

"Let go!" He tried to yell, words muffled by Ivan's scarf.

"You missed me," Ivan said, squeezing harder until Alfred was breathless. Alfred flayed and struggled as Ivan rubbed his chin against the crown of his head, touching a certain upturned strand of hair.

Alfred burned red all over, fighting to get free. Finally a "Get off me!" got out and Ivan released him so suddenly he stumbled backwards into the railing, holding his hurting nose. "What the hell was that!"

"You are affectionate today," Ivan said cheerfully. "You were eager to see me."

"Like I hell I was!" Alfred snapped. "I told you stay the fuck away from me."

"Nyet," Ivan said, waving a forefinger. "Your words were 'never approach me again'. I have not approached you. This encounter was sheer coincidence. Perhaps, you are stalking me?"

Alfred nearly slipped at that. Choking out the words, he said, " _Stalking you?_ I'd sooner drink tea!"

"No need to by shy. Not after how desperately you threw yourself into my arms."

"I tripped, dumbass! Then you crushed me with those anacondas you call arms!"

"Ah, I understand." The sides of Ivan's eyebrows turned downward around the sides. In a sickly-sweet voice, he said, "You are shy and embarrassed that you so openly displayed your love for me."

Alfred's jaw dropped and he stared at Ivan. Then he closed his mouth, jaw clenching. A bubble of rage rose inside him until he exploded, "Get a fucking clue, jackass! _I don't like you!_ I'd sooner give up hamburgers than date you! You set the whole school me and Tory!"

"Not on you. Just _him_ ," Ivan said the last part darkly, his tone frosty. "This is all your fault."

"My fault! How the hell is this my fault?"

Ivan's smile vanished and, in a seething voice of barely-repressed anger, he said, "Because you let that _worm_ hang off you. You're always fawning over each other. It sickens me. Have you no shame?"

"This isn't the Victorian era, dipshit! And we don't fawn over each other. We're friends! He's the Robin to my Batman! The Iron Man to my Captain America! We're pals! He's my sidekick and my friend."

A thunderstorm seemed to build in Ivan's furrowing brow; his eyes held intense anger. "You don't understand anything. Friends don't touch each other that way. He wants more than friendship from you. He's not allowed touch you like that. And you can't smile at him like that."

"You can't tell me what to do! I'll smile at whomever I please!"

Ivan stepped closer and Alfred raised his fists. "What's so special about him? I'm superior in every way. He's but a weak, girly man. One who is taking advantage of your stupidity. You mustn't trust his type."

"Oh, I know damn well what type I can't trust. And it ain't freaks like you that ambush people and bully others." Alfred jabbed a finger hard against Ivan's chest. "You make me sick, Braginski! Tory is ten billion times better than you! I'd rather have sex with him than y—."

Out of nowhere, Ivan palm came hard and fast. Alfred heard the slap before he felt it, even though that should not have been possible. Maybe his mind needed extra time to register the pain. The blow nearly knocked him down the stairs.

He stood frozen in shock, mind reeling, left cheek aching.

That was it! That was so very it!

His gaze latched onto Ivan who had the first panicked look he had ever seen on the man — first authentic expression too. He seemed regretful and ashamed.

Holding up his palms, Ivan said, "I'm sorry. This is a misunderstanding. My hand moved without my permission.

With a roar of rage, Alfred swung his first hard and connected with Ivan's cheek, knocking the man into the railing. Ivan fell to his knees and stared up, wide eyed and wondering.

Wiping his lip with the back of his hand, Alfred made a " _tch_ " sound at the sight of blood. The bastard had split his lip.

"Listen well, asshole!" Alfred said in a level voice, jabbing a finger toward Ivan. "I'll never, ever, ever, ever, _ever_ like a scumbag such as you! I hate people who harass, assault, attack others, and treat school as their personal playground. Tory is a _serious_ student. I like people who weir their uniforms, don't flaunt the rules, and take school seriously. Got it?"

Ivan remained motionless, but slowly nodded.

"Good! Now stay the fuck away from me and my friends!" Then Alfred turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs. He slammed shut the door behind him and went to find Toris.

* * *

The Bad Touch Trio had watched it all through the cracked-open doorway of the fourth floor. Now Francis threw open the door and sauntered out, giving a knowing laugh. He leaned on the railing and called down, "Do you understand, _mon cheri?_ For matters of love there is only one expert and he stands here."

Antonio cleared his throat.

Continuing, Francis said, "As I told you, you must attract the American like the flower attracts the bee to its pollen. You must become something he cannot resist. A tempting nectar. An ambrosia of the heavens."

Ivan's gaze sharply fixed on Francis and he jumped to his feet, silver-blond eyebrows shooting up just as fast. "That's it! You are correct."

" _Oui,_ but of course, I am," Francis said, puffing out his chest. "We'll get st—."

"I must draw him to me as the venus flytrap does its prey," Ivan interrupted.

"No, no, _mon cheri_ , that is not what I said!"

But Ivan wasn't listening. He threw his head back, giggling towards the sky. He said, "He likes serious men. Well, I can be _serious_."

Francis gulped hard, exchanging nervous looks with the other two. Neither of them were keen on this new turn of events.

* * *

TBC in … "Getting Serious"

Can the world handle this new and improved Ivan? Will the Bad Touch Trio be able to cope with the mortification and humiliation of it all? Next time, a very transformed Ivan appears at school.

* * *

 **Bonus Feature**

 **What's In Their Corner?**

* * *

This likely is not interesting to most and I didn't want to put too many details into the chapter so I made these into an extra. The IQ took over a conference room on the top floor of the Pangea building and converted it into their personal hangout on the grounds that their time was best spent in "self-study". Since none of the teachers wanted any of the four in their classes for various reasons, this was agreed to. Thus each has a personalized corner of the room. Here's what they look like.

* * *

 **Francis's Corner**

* * *

 _Description_ — Pastels dominate, especially powder-blue and rose-pink.

* * *

 _Portraits and Posters —_ Audrey Hepburn in her famous black and white "Breakfast at Tiffany's" poster. An imitation of Francisco De Goya's "The Nude Maja". And (above the vanity) a huge, glamorized painting of Francis in the same pose as "The Nude Maja", but with a rose held between in his teeth by its stem and one very well-placed rose that keeps it PG. He stares seductively out of the portrait.

* * *

 _Notable Items_ — A vanity, three full body mirrors that are all at different angles to each other, a display case of various perfumes, skin lotions, and hair care products. A large wardrobe full of designer outfits and shoes. A table for sketching his numerous lingerie designs — most of which are just well-placed stickers and body paint.

A strange tea cup that doesn't fit with Francis' tastes at all. It is alien, somehow hostile to its surroundings, yet cared for. Not a speck of dust has been allowed to settle on it. A glass case protects it. The cup is rimmed gold and has a border in the saucer filled with fairies flying around against an emerald-green background.

* * *

 _Books —_ (most are in french) _Les Miserables, The Count of Monte Crisco, The Three Musketeers , Journey To the Center of the Earth_ , several other classics of french literature and books on french poetry. There is a collection of books on the history of Napoleon Bonaparte (whom Francis insists is his ancestor as well as Jone of Arc). Books on french cuisine, wines, and masterpieces of French artists.

 _Magazines —_ Vogue and several other fashion magazines.

* * *

 _Letters_ — Stacks and stacks of replies from people in congress, even one with a presidential seal, begging Francis to cease and desist his incessant letters pleading for a repeal of all "Indecent Exposure" Laws on the grounds that having to wear "clothes is a form of oppression" and explaining that no the Constitution does not have a "Bare It All" clause.

Francis already has several replies, all written in his usual flowing and elegant penmanship.

A few letters — mostly from female congresswomen — have requested more of the nude glamor shots he included in his previous letters as evidence of "the beauty of the human form" and claim they need more for "research purposes". They have included their private numbers if he would like to privately "discuss" the issue further.

* * *

 **Ivan's Corner**

* * *

 _Description —_ Sparse, utilitarian, lots of grays and browns.

* * *

 _Pictures_ — An imitation painting of Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" in a drab frame. On a table stand with several framed photos of Alfred, all recent additions and in none does he seem aware his photo was being taken, especially the largest where he's changing in the gym locker room.

* * *

 _Notable Items —_ A marble chess board with a game in progress. Ivan is his own opponent and the black is winning.

A worn armchair, a large book shelf, a table, a coat hanger, and a writing desk with notes covering it and a frest-cut sunflower in a vase.

* * *

 _Books —_ (mostly in Russian) Several classics of Russian literature such as _Crime and Punishment (_ by Dostoyevsky), Anna Karenina (which he found too "uplifting"), more works by Tolstoy and Chekhov. And several books discussing the nihilistic philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche.

(Middle Shelf) — History of Russian Space Program, Picture Books on Supernovas, Nebulas; books on Astronomy and String Theory, Wormholes, Hard Science Fiction works Asimov's such as "I, Robot" and "Foundation" series and Larry Niven's "Ringworld" and "Rendezvous With Rama" by Arthur C. Clarke.

(Top Shelf) — Books on Chess such as "The Genius of Garry Kasparov", and many on Advanced Calculus such as "Mathematical Arguments For String Theory" and "Integrating For Fun". Even a few about Computer Coding.

* * *

 _Notes_ — The top of his desk is cluttered with notes and notebooks filled with countless calculations and solutions, all written in neat and precise penmanship. A TI84 graphing calculator sits, numbers worn off its buttons.

One notebook is open to a page titled "The Alfred Equation". Sunflowers are drawn in the margins, as well as a man with glasses and a prominent hair curl. The handwriting shows increasing frustration, as if the writer wishes humans were as easy as integrating with imaginary numbers.

Perhaps he is developing a formula to solve for Alfred?

Is there such a thing or is he just dividing by zero?

* * *

*** dividing by zero = attempting an impossible mathematical operation.

*** Garry Kasparov is a Russian man who is considered one of the greatest chess players ever.

* * *

Anna Karenina is anything but "uplifting".

(Next update will have Antonio and Gilbert's Corners. Sorry if this was a bit dry, but I hope some will find it enjoyable.)


	12. Getting Serious

**Note -** Sorry this took a little longer to get out. I hope this update was worth the wait.

* * *

 **Acknowledgements**

* * *

 **zen436, Iron Rose Writer, canawesomeguest** (very good points) **, AMO, RedPhoenix15, Asileme, ivyshadow13, pastaaddict** (yesssss ;) **, placedesiredname (** I was aiming for that. Sometimes I put in subtle jokes to keep the readers on their toes ;) **, nicolai87, Wicket, deathnoteno1fan-codegeasslover, fightmeilikehetaliafanfiction** (did I spell that right?), **BlackNoblesse** (I'm glad other's noticed the easter egg in Francis' collection. See if you can find more.), **spicegenou** (sorry about that), and three **anons**!

(One anon asked about a USUK of Rooftop Prince. I've never heard of that story. I'll look into it :)

And as always thank you everyone for your favs, likes, and views!

* * *

 **Getting Serious**

* * *

Every morning and every evening of a school day, a procession of expensive cars stopped at the wide, front steps of Hetalia's Administration Building to either drop off or pick-up a student. No sooner did a door close and the car leave, then a new one replaced it.

They all rounded a large, garish fountain, one topped by an obnoxious alabaster statue of Neptune who brandished a golden trident in one hand and held the reins of four horses — ones that seemed to spring from the fountain's center — in the other.

Today students were greeted by a sight anything but typical. A man who stood as if he were the god of the sea.

Ivan Braginski stood five steps up, hands clasped behind his back, glaring down at each arrival, eyes scanning over their attire. Some gawked, some screamed, two fainted and had to be carried away, most snapped photos, and one simply climbed back into his limo and yelled at the driver, "Go! And don't stop for any reason!"

It was not the sight of Braginski bright and early that shocked most. It was him in his _school uniform._ He still wore his scarf — some things never change — yet he was in his blazer and plaid pants.

As 8:30 approached, Ivan started to snap at the students things like, "Get to class! You dare be late! This is a serious school!"

Soon the steps were empty, except for new arrivals.

Every now and again some showed up in inappropriate attire and were soon waylaid by Ivan looming over them, asking things like, "What man wears pants that low? This is a serious school. I will not let you _ruin_ its reputation. Pull up your pants or I will be _very_ displeased."

They could not yank up their pants fast enough as they ran away with a "Y-yes sir!"

Increasingly Ivan looked toward the tree-lined drive, as if searching for someone. The more that _someone_ did not appear, the testier he became.

Where was his serious _sunflower?_

* * *

Meanwhile, under the shade of a nearby oak, the Bad Touch Trio watched the whole disaster unfold. Gilbert had his back leaned against the tree and distracted himself with Puzzles and Dragons on his phone while Antonio and Francis sat on bench trying not to cry.

Ivan was in the middle of scolding a girl for wearing her skirt too high and having her breasts too exposed.

Antonio moaned, burying his face in his hands. "Por favor! Say it's over!"

"No, amigo," Gilbert said sadly. "We still have a smidgen of dignity left."

"This is horrible!" Francis groaned, massaging his temple, telling himself, "Find your happy place! Remember what your therapist said."

The female student ran off, after tying her blazer around her waist and promising to remove her cosmetics.

"This can't be happening!" Antonio whined. "Is he really telling girls to _lengthen_ their skirts! If anything mini-skirts should be mandatory!"

"Clothes should _never_ be mandatory," Francis said softly. The others craned their heads slowly over to glare at him. He pointedly ignored as he said in a sad, contemplative way, "I don't understand why we can't all be naked."

"Coz, those of us have the right not to see that tiny pencil you call a dick," Gilbert said.

"Tiny! How dare you!" Francis said. "You know very well it is as lovely as my face.

They both stared silently at Francis before Antonio cleared his throat and said, "You compared your face to your dick. You know that right."

"They are equally as beautiful," Francis said proudly.

"I'll agree that your face looks like a dick," Gilbert said with a snort "A shriveled, tiny one. Nothing like my awesome five meters."

Antonio groaned.

"Ridiculous!" Francis sniffed, pulling out his phone, he began to open up his album. "I'll show you how lovely it is."

"NO!" Both shouted.

"My breakfast needs to stay in my stomach," Gilbert added.

There was a rustling sound in the thickets behind the bench and they both glanced over. When they heard nothing, they went back to their conversation.

"Why must everyone act as if I'm some kind of pervert?" Francis said with a sigh.

"Because you are a pervert!" Antonio and Gilbert said in unison, glancing in surprise at each other.

"I prefer the term, 'Prudence-challenged'," he said, tugging at his power-blue coat. "Even in these designer brands, I feel as though my radiance is contained."

"You're not wearing enough in my opinion. A bag over your head would improve things," Gilbert muttered.

"I heard that, mon dieu!" Francis said, casting a frown at him.

"Here he comes," Antonio said, just as Ivan arrived beaming his childish grin at all of them.

"Why are you not wearing your uniforms?" Ivan said. "You need to be more serious like me ~!"

"We're fifteen minutes late for class," Antonio noted.

"I'm too awesome for uniforms," Gilbert said, keeping his eyes glued to his phone screen.

"Honestly, I only wear clothing at all because I'm tired of being arrested because our society has those barbaric 'indecent exposure' laws in place," Francis said. They all gave him a look that he continued to ignore.

Ivan glanced over his shoulder. "Is there another way into this school?"

All three smirked very knowingly. In a sly voice, Francis asked, "Why? Hoping a certain _someone_ sees you being all serious?"

"Nyet." Ivan frowned. "It is my job to ensure that this remains a serious school."

"Since when is it your job?" Gilbert asked.

Truthfully, the only reason the three of them were at school this early was because Ivan had insisted, pestered, and finally _threatened_ them into it. Francis found this the most troublesome since it cut into his "beauty sleep".

"Unless he planned to lug that bike up a tree-covered hillside, he needed to come in this way," Gilbert said.

"I'll ask," Ivan said, moving suddenly, arms shooting out into the thicket beside them.

There was a sharp, shrill yelp as he dragged out a leaf-covered Feliciano and held him up by the front of his blue polo shirt. They both gaped in surprise.

"I surrender!" Feliciano cried, waving a white handkerchief. "Have mercy! I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Just spare me! My fifteen children need me."

"You don't have any children," Antonio pointed out.

"W-well, the children I will have one day. Take my brother! Spare me!"

"It's a trap. You don't want the other one," Antonio called, cupping a hand around his mouth. "That guy is a bastard who wets the bed!"

"He's outgrown it!" Feliciano stammered as Ivan leaned over him.

"You are late. You are an administrator of this school. Students look to you for answers." The Bad Touch Trio exchanged skeptical looks. "Yet you dare come to work late! How can we be serious if you are not!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Feliciano squeaked. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "I promise — cross my heart — to be less late from now on!"

" _You_ ," Ivan said darkly, "shall tell me where Alfred F. Jones is."

"A-alfred? But he's a student. I'm not supposed to…" Ivan giggled, eyes taking on a warning look. "B-but I'll make an exception. That's what I meant to say! His parents phoned last night. He can't come in today. He fell ill last night."

Feliciano yelped as Ivan grabbed his upper arms and squeezed.

"Sunflower… is sick?"

Feliciano nodded vigorously. "C-can I go?"

"Almost," Ivan said. His smile widened, boring into Feliciano's brown eyes. "After one more favor."

* * *

A little known fact was that hamburgers could cure any illness. All you had to do was place one upon the sick person's forehead. Unfortunately, being the only person who understood this, Alfred's many attempts to prove it had been foiled by others (mainly Tino and Matthew).

On the rare occasion that Alfred fell ill — like now — he would beg for someone to fetch him a hamburger or grill one, but to no avail. Tino would say, "I know what you're planning and the answer is still no."

That wasn't even the worst part.

Of all the great ideas Yet-To-Be-Invented, hamburger-flavored medicine was not one of them. They had Bubblegum-flavored, but no Big Mac flavor? This despite Alfred's numerous letters pitching the idea to McDonalds. All ignored.

The loud _ding-dong_ of the doorbell broke him from his thoughts. The sound felt like a jackhammer pounding into his skull.

"Make it stop," he groaned, curling deeper in his mountain of blankets as the person continued to ring.

 _Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

Whoever was at the door had to be one of the most obnoxious salesmen on the planet.

 _Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

On the verge of extracting himself from his covers, he heard the flush of the hallway toilet, followed by its door banging open, and a rushed cry from Tino of, "I'm coming!"

 _Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!_

Alfred groaned, grabbing a tissue from one of the boxes on his desk and blew his nose before dropping it on the mountain of tissues growing out of his basket trash. A few had missed and laid scattered about the brown-carpeted floor.

Where Alfred's side was an obstacle course of clothes, notes, and various items, Matthew's side was clean and organized. They were like night and day.

Sickly late morning light shined through the grey plastic blinds of the rooms sole window, one lodged between their two opposing beds. Matthew's maple-leaf bedspread was made and his giant stuffed bear, Kumajiro, sat atop it, staring at Alfred.

But he was too weak to throw something over Kumajiro like normal.

Finally, the ringing stopped when Tino opened the door. He could hear chatter and the other voice sounded almost _familiar_.

Something cold gnawed in his insides.

He felt guilty that Tino was missing work to stay home and take care of him. He had insisted he was fine staying home alone, but his dad wouldn't hear it and wouldn't allow Matthew to skip school.

Alfred coughed hard, covering his mouth. Each one felt like a spasm in his chest.

He wondered if his illness had anything to do with the bacteria-ridden trash thrown on him and Toris yesterday.

His hand curled into a fist as he thought of Ivan. Matthew had nearly cried at the state of Alfred's uniform. Luckily, he had not asked Alfred what happened, wanting to wait until Alfred recovered.

"Al!" Tino called cheerfully. "A friend from your school is here!"

Alfred frowned.

 _Tory?_ he wondered, unrolling himself from the bed. Waves of dizziness rolled through him. His bare feet pressed on the carpet and he grabbed the bed post to steady himself as he walked around the foot of his bed to the door. His drawer was beside it.

He fell against the frame and began, "Tory, I…" he trailed off.

Standing in the doorway was someone not Toris. Someone as tall as Berwald. The last person Alfred wanted to see: Ivan Braginski. Those violet eyes shifted and latched onto Alfred.

"Greetings ~ What a beautiful day!" Ivan said.

Alfred's mouth fell open.

Tino, oblivious to it all, smiled warmly at Alfred and, in an excited voice, said, "You never told me you were friends with the heir to Winter Corporation!"

"Wh-what are you doing here!" Alfred demanded in his stuffed-up voice, pointing a finger at Ivan. The fingers of his other hand dug into the wood of the frame. "This is my home! Get out!"

"Al!" Tino said in a scolding way. "He's been very kind to visit. And this _our_ home."

"I heard you were ill. I brought a doctor!" Ivan said, smiling as he grabbed someone outside the door and pulled in a startled blond man in a white coat.

"I'm supposed to be at work!" the scowling man said sternly.

"You're patient is right here, Dr. Beildschmidt," Ivan said pleasantly.

"Oh hell no," Alfred said, shaking his head.

"How sweet of you!" Tino chimed. "Your classmate is very kind."

Ivan nodded in agreement, smiling pleasantly at Tino who seemed oblivious to Ivan's evil aura.

Alfred noticed how Ivan eyed him and glanced down at himself, turning beat red as he remembered he was dressed in only his cowboy pajamas.

He was in hell.

* * *

TBC in … "Home Sick".

Ivan will see Alfred well by any means necessary.

* * *

 **What's In Their Corner?**

* * *

 **Antonio's Corner**

* * *

 _Feel:_

Messy. Several paper balls have missed his black wire trash can. Black, red, and yellow dominate the colors. A vacuum sorely needs to be run through his area. There are smatterings of crumbs everywhere.

* * *

 _Notable Items_ :

A soccer ball, cleats, a soccer jersey and a gigantic tomato-shaped bean bag. There is a dart board with pinpricks in the wall around it and clock shaped-like the sun. A calendar hangs on the wall that depicts beautiful places in Spain.

* * *

 _Photos_ :

On his desk are photos of him dancing salsa, the chacha, and the Tarantella. In a few he has a male partner, one whose face is always averted or blocked from view.

A few photos show him with his curly brown hair grown past his ears. His forest green eyes stand out from his lightly tanned skin. He is often posing with his pet bull, Cortez, and wearing his bullfighter costume.

In a drawer are stacks and stacks of letters from his mother and aunts — who can't be bothered to fiddle with this "email" fad — and implore him to take better care of his appearance. His mother writes constantly why her handsome boy has to be so messy all the time?

In the very bottom drawer, tucked far in the back is a birthday card, yellowed at the edges, that reads inside, "You're one year older. Whoopity-fucking-doo-day, you _hijo de puta_!"

There is not signature, only a drawn tomato.

On the window sill are five little pots with tomatoes plants in various stages of growth. The most mature has five ripe, red tomatoes, each ready to be picked.

* * *

 _Posters:_ Godfather I, Godfather II, Spain's soccer team

 _Reading Materials:_ Spanish cuisine cook books, travel picture books of Spain, soccer magazines. Books on getting into law school (hidden behind the soccer magazines) One titled "Getting Into Harvard".

 _Video Materials_ :

All the Godfather movies, most of the Quentin Tarantino's, Ocean's Eleven, The Usual Suspects, various movies about con artists, Pan's Labyrinth, _El Orfanato_ , Classics such as _12 Angry Men, Citizen Kane,_ and several Alfred Hitchcock movies.

 _Entertainment_ : A hand held playstation with several soccer games to choose from.

* * *

 **Gilbert's Corner**

* * *

 _Feel:_

Weirdly organized and methodically planned to look like chaos. Order disguised as anarchy. Hard work hidden under a veil of lazy indifference. A neat person disguising themselves as a slob. There is a mixture of green, blue, and white. Look close and you'll see too much of a pattern for it to be as random as it tries to appear.

* * *

 _Notable Items_ :

The beat up brown recliner has several stains, yet no loose change lost in the folds. It faces the door to the room and a bird cage. There are several treats for a small bird in a drawer of a table. They look shoved inside, but they are meticulously arranged and the owner will _know_ if one has been moved, just as he knows if anything in the "mess" has been altered.

Contrary to what most believe, he is very thorough. If he were a burglar, he'd be a methodical one who would check every drawer and space. He hates being called "smart" and "hardworking" like his brother. He prefers being labeled, "stupid, lazy, and disorganized". Everything his brother is not. There can be no similarity. He won't allow it. When people call him, "a lazy idiot", he puffs up with a sense of accomplishment. It is proof that he can be different.

On the mahogany surface of a table are various framed photos of a little yellow bird, one he sometimes brings to school. The bird is perched in various poses, in front of various famous landmarks — Machu Picchu, The Tower of London, Tokyo Tower ect.

At home he has countless photo albums devoted to the small creature that he obsesses about. He even created an instagram account titled "Gilbird" — one with millions of followers. The most asked questions are "Is it parakeet?", "A baby chick?", and "What the hell is it?".

There is a tissue box on the table with unopened ones beneath it.

Shoved in one of the drawers is a birthday card, one badly crinkled and torn, it reads "Happy Graduation West". It has collected dust and looks like it was meant to be given somewhere, instead it was shoved away.

Further back is another letter that begins "Dear Rotten Woman, still cross-dressing? You missed the cool thing I did the other day when…"

The line is crossed out. Multiple versions with slight variation are crossed out.

* * *

 _Posters:_

A vintage "On The Fritz" poster from their joint concert with Gun'N'Roses and Nirvana. An old poster of Queen. A motivational poster depicting a beautiful forest and at the bottom reads "Awesome Has No Limits".

* * *

 _Reading Material_ :

 _Bottom Shelf —_

Historical books in German on the Prussian Era, the Crusades, and the Knights of the Teutonic Order. Books on the Art of Fighting with a Broad Sword and a picture book entitled "Weapons of the Dark Ages".

 _Middle Shelves —_

Dark Fantasy series such as _Eric Melbourne_ and the Dark Elf Trilogy by R. A. Salvatore (all featuring an albino-like protagonist).

A photo frame of his dark elf character on World of Warcraft, a night elf assassin with a yellow bird as a pet. His character's name is " _FiveMetersOfAwesome5MFU_ " who loves to charge into every dungeon crying, "Prepare to choke on my five meters!"

 _Top Shelf —_

Stacks of playboys, Maxims, and other pornographic material. Hidden behind them, like a dirty, shameful secret, are various medical journals and books on getting into medical school and several journals that all begin "I'm so cool" or with "I was so cool today."

And a CD for counting sheep.

* * *

 **Note —**

Ah, this video made me miss traveling. Check it out if you're interested. It's a little over a minute.

h t (add another t) p s : / / ww w . you tu be watch?v=4toHML_BbAU

(Remove the spaces).

It is titled under "Life Is No Fairy Tale".


	13. Home Sick

**Note -** And we enter the phase of the story where they begin to understand the other. Thank you everyone for all your wonderful support. We start to head to the first thematic climax (mini-climax) in this chapter.

* * *

 **Home Sick**

* * *

Five years ago on Christmas Eve Tino died. His heart stopped for five minutes.

Alfred blamed himself. He had begged and begged for a Nintendo Wii — the hot Christmas item that year. Tino located one by chance and drove out that night in heavy snow to fetch it. To this day Tino did not remember any of the accident, not skidding across the ice, not careening off the road, nor wrapping his light-blue volvo around a tree.

Instead of sleeping soundly in their beds, the family spent the early hours of Christmas morning outside the operating room praying for a Christmas miracle. And they received. Tino survived.

But life was never the same. Tino's injuries took away his livelihood and, because he was between jobs at the time, they had no insurance. The crushing medical debts took away their savings, their home, and left them destitute.

 _It's all my fault_ , haunted Alfred's mind. Guilt gnawed at his insides like a slow-spreading cancer. No one blamed him and that was worse because he felt they _should_.

Every day his grin felt harder to sustain. He would do anything to protect that smile on Tino's round face, to wipe away the scars now hidden on Tino's forehead by pale blond hair.

It was why Alfred studied and why he had to stay in Hetalia High no matter what. He had a debt to pay and a sin to answer for.

When they first saw the chipped gray walls, cloudy windows that all faced brick walls, and stained beige carpet that covered everywhere but the linoleum floor of the bathroom and kitchen of their new home, Matthew had burst into tears.

"It's not home," he said.

Alfred plastered on his best grin, slapped his brother on the back, and declared, "Nah, Mattie! This is home! It's like we're in that apartment from The Professional! This is a classic Hollywood dump!"

Matthew had rolled his eyes, yet his smile had returned.

Even after their crazy, cat-loving neighbor — a greek fellow named Heracles — spilled the beans on _why_ the rent was so so cheap for their place, Alfred still refused to complain.

Rather than bawl and demand they move, Alfred took the proper precautions: Holy Water (borrowed from church), crucifixes, and bibles. He was still working out how to sneak a Priest in there, but one day.

He had learned not to let little things get him down. Things like the fact that the previous tenant, the one whose cigarette smoke had yellowed all the roll-down window shades, had been stabbed to death in what was now Tino and Berwald's bedroom.

You have to roll with the punches, he often said.

And if he could learn to live in their _haunted_ home, why there was surely nothing he could not deal with. After all heroes overcome.

* * *

There was about to be another homicide in Alfred's home. The future victim's name was Ivan Braginski.

The bastard stood, smiling, by the kitchen's pea-green stove, staring a particularly large yellow water stain on the ceiling. If looks could kill, Alfred's glare should have exploded Ivan's head.

"I've never been in a poor person's home before," Ivan said.

Alfred's hands clenched into fists.

"I said don't move!" Ludwig said harshly. A scowl permanent on his blocky face, one that reminded Alfred of Gilbert.

Alfred ground his teeth, trying to exhale and inhale as Ludwig wanted. The man sat in a chair opposite Alfred's at the round dining table, listening to Alfred's chest with his stethoscope. Its cold metal pressed against Alfred's toned chest.

The worse was having to hold up his white T-shirt, one he had retrieved out of his room earlier. Every time he looked away, he swore Ivan took the chance to grope Alfred with those evil, violet eyes.

For some reason, Alfred was bothered by Ivan seeing him half-naked. He had never been bothered before by people admiring his glorious figure. Why was Ivan different?

Tino squatted behind Alfred, looking through all the grocery bags and styrofoam boxes that made the kitchen impossible to walk through now. They had been brought in by Ivan's servants. Although Alfred had said, 'send this shit back', Tino had overruled him and thanked Ivan for his generosity.

When Alfred turned his gaze back to Ivan, he caught the man averting his eyes away from Alfred. He had been checking him out! Alfred ground his teeth.

 _That bastard! Bastard, bastard, rotten commie bastard_ , ran on repeat in Alfred's head.

"Finished," Ludwig said, removing the stethoscope. Alfred dropped his shirt, sighing in relief. The blond doctor leaned over his seat and began taking a few things out of his black bag — alcohol swabs, cotton, tape, and a long syringe. "I just need a blood sample."

Alfred went rigid, feeling the color drain from his face. "Wh… what did…?"

Suddenly, Tino's hands held his shoulders down. "Relax Al."

Despite being smaller, Tino was a lot stronger than he looked, most said Alfred got his strength from that.

"I didn't agree to needles!" Alfred said, voice higher-pitch than intended as he tried to get up.

"Ivan, help me!" Tino called.

That froze Alfred who craned his head to look at his father with an expression of "Are you serious?" Then he saw Ivan come over, looking utterly delighted, and Alfred bolted with a cry of "The Hero doesn't do needles!"

* * *

"Stop pouting, Al," Tino said after Ludwig had left.

Ivan stood back in his post by the stove, looking very pleased with himself.

Alfred glared sulkily at the floor, rubbing at the bandage on his left arm and sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop — Ludwig gave it to him after.

"My own father teaming up with that… that _thing_ over there!" Alfred said, directing the last part at Ivan. The candy rolled around in his mouth and soothed his sore throat. "It's unbelievable!"

"It's free medical care," Tino said.

Alfred glared at Ivan and spat, "You bring evil! That needle was huge! A mile long!"

"It was not," Tino said.

"And they say I need the glasses." Alfred pushed Texas up the bridge of his nose for emphasis. "I can't believe you both held me down like that."

"Your flailing and struggles were very amusing," Ivan said, ignoring Alfred's withering scowl. "Your screams are very high pitched."

"I did not scream. I roared like a man!"

"Why must you act like this around needles?" Tino said.

"Coz they're sharp! Duh," Alfred said.

A small giggle escaped Ivan. Where Alfred found it horrifying, Tino seemed to find it endearing. "I can't thank you enough Ivan for all your generosity."

"He's not generous!" Alfred said at the same time that Ivan said, "I've always been very generous ~"

"Al, you should say thank you."

When Alfred snorted at that, Tino pinched his arm. With a yelp, he cried, "What was that for?"

"I will not have you behave so rudely. You should thank him."

" _Thank him?_ " Alfred was horrified. "I'd sooner give up hamburgers."

Tino's nostrils flared, his thin lips pursed and he rose, staring sternly at Alfred. "You will thank him. I did not raise a mannerless son."

"But… but…" The violet seemed to twinkle darkly in Tino's eyes. "Ah, but dad. Fine!" Alfred muttered to Ivan, "Thanks."

And was bopped on his head. "Like you meant it!"

Throwing on a fake grin, he said in thickly-saccharine voice, feeling as though he were eating a can of worms, "Thank you Ivan. From the bottom of my heart, I hope," _a mutant shark eats you_ ," that you get what you _deserve_."

"There. Isn't that nice?" Tino said happily, clasping his hands together.

 _No_ , Alfred thought.

"You're welcome. Helping others has always been a joy in my life," Ivan said proudly.

"Good for you," Alfred said, grin plastered on. "Now _get out_!"

Tino look less than amused.

"Al, why are you being this way?"

Tino knew nothing of what had gone on at school and Alfred meant to keep it that way.

"I'm tired. I need to lay down," Alfred said groggily, standing up. He shuffled to his bedroom and threw the door shut as Tino said, "I'm sorry, Ivan. He's cranky when he's ill."

* * *

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Wh-what?" Alfred said, sitting up, wiping drool off the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Tino opened the door and peeked inside, asking, "May I come in?"

Alfred nodded, sitting up. He could not have been asleep more than twenty minutes according to the clock.

"Al," Tino said nervously, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Would you be completely against it if I went to work?"

"Huh? Of course not!" Alfred said. "I'm a big boy. I can't take care of myself."

 _Even in a haunted apartment_. He repressed a shudder.

"No, there is no way I'm leaving you alone with that kind of fever."

"But then who…" Alfred trailed off, realizing slamming him like a sack of bricks. "No!"

"Please consider it. I can't miss out on a full day's paycheck and he seems very nice. He kindly agreed to stay and take care of you until Berwald returns home."

 _I bet he did_ , Alfred thought, biting his tongue not to say it.

"Is there any reason I should say no?" Tino asked, his blue eyes, ones that had a lavender tinge like Matthew's, stared earnestly at Alfred.

His objections died in his throat as he thought of how selfish it would be to say no. Tino would not leave him alone and the family would miss out on badly needed money.

And perhaps Alfred could run Ivan off — maybe rig his home full of booby traps like in that Home Alone movie — or at the very least lock himself in his room. He could deal with this.

"All right," he said in defeat. "Ivan can take care of me."

"Really?" Tino brightened, sounding relieved. "You really don't mind? You fussed so much earlier that I thought… maybe…"

"Nah!" Alfred said, forcing on a grin. He rubbed at his nape. "You know how cranky I get when ill." He felt his lips would rot off as he added, "Ivan's a great guy. He's known for his compassion."

The lie tasted foul.

"Thank you, Al," Tino said, reaching to hug, but Alfred leaned away.

"I might be contagious."

"Oh right," Tino said. "I'll tell your friend."

"Yeah, my _great_ friend," Alfred said in a tight voice.

* * *

Once the door closed behind Tino Alfred's grin fell off.

"Listen, fuckhead. We're not friends. I hate your guts," Alfred said to Ivan who remained smiling. "Stay out of my room, away from me, and don't touch anything."

He turned away, coughing a few times into his room. When he looked back, he jumped in surprise to find Ivan now several feet closer and holding a jar of vaseline.

"But I must come closer, Sunflower ~" Ivan said in his sickly-sweet way. "I promised your kind father I'd rub this on your chest. And see that you took your medicine."

Alfred's gaze darted to the jar, watching in the slow motion of a horror movie as Ivan took off the cap. He went red all over, growing hot from more than the fever.

"Oh, hell no!" Alfred said.

He shot Ivan the middle finger and then slammed shut his door and locked it. For good measure, he pushed his drawer of clothes in front of it, to barricade himself in. A task made harder by the weakness from his illness.

"Sunflower ~ please open the door," Ivan said, softly knocking. A steady _tap-tap-tap_ that disturbed Alfred. "Let me in ~"

"Fuck off!" Alfred said, voice gravelly. He threw himself on his bed. "I'm trying to sleep!"

There was a pause.

"But you're father said."

"I don't give a fuck! You're not rubbing vasel—." Alfred couldn't finish, his words ended by a fit of dry hacking. He grabbed a half-empty juice box, sucking out the last of his orange juice to calm his coughing fit.

"Sunflower ~ I must put this on your chest."

"No, you musn't ~" Alfred called back, mimicking Ivan's sickly-sweet voice. "Get lost ~"

When Ivan continued softly knocking and calling, "Sunflower ~", Alfred grabbed his headphones, and turned on his favorite song, "Born In The USA".

At some point he fell into a dreamless sleep, never realizing the games had just begun.

* * *

(TBC in Pt. II "Home Sick" —

Alfred and Ivan are home alone. And Ivan starts to show a decent side. Is it a trick or does he have a nice side? Despite Alfred's determination to hate Ivan, he starts to soften. Things take a turn for the sweet...

* * *

 **Note #1 —** Sorry to split a chapter again, but I wanted to get something out. I've been busy and a bit demotivated on writing.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** I've started an Archive Of Our Own for this story. Just type in the name of this story or my account name and add "Archive Of Our Own Hetalia" to find it. I'll catch it up there eventually.


	14. Home Sick Part II

**Note** \- I was having such a rough time writing this chapter that I split it in two. Then suddenly the final part came together. If I had known that would happen, I would not have split the chapters. Oh well, sorry everyone.

* * *

 **Home Sick Part II**

* * *

 _Thump. Thump. Thump_.

Alfred cracked open his bleary eyes and stared at his door. Pulling his headphones off, heard the soft thumping on his door and then, " _Sunflower?"_

With a groan, he flopped back onto the bed, staring at his X-files poster on the ceiling above that read "The Truth Is Out There". From the light, it looked about one o'clock.

"Go away!" Alfred called. He sat up, sniffing the air. There was a lovely odor in it.

"I have made food. You must eat," Ivan insisted, maintaining that persistent knocking.

"I'm not hungry!" Alfred said just as his stomach growled. And that wasn't the only problem. He needed to pee.

After grabbing several tissues and blowing his nose, he sat up, looking around for an empty bottle. Any solution to peeing without leaving the room.

"Nyet. You must eat. It is the only way to recover," Ivan sad in that high-pitched voice. "I have fixed a Russian remedy my grandmother made for me and my sisters."

"Poison?"

"Nyet. Poison is a remedy for other problems, not illness," Ivan said.

Alfred only gaped at the door, hoping Ivan was joking, sure he wasn't.

Continuing, Ivan explained, "You must come out. I have _Gogol Mogol_ and _Kasha_ for you. They will help you recover faster. And you must take your medicine."

"What the hell is Gogol whatever?" Alfred said, doubling over as a fit of coughing seized him. The last thing he needed was to go out there where Ivan was.

"It is a drink made by whisking together egg yolk, a teaspoon of honey, half a cup of milk with heated butter and rum. I added vodka though. I think it is better."

"Vodka?" Alfred gasped. Although he felt lame saying it, he said, "You do know we're minors."

"Da. What is your point?"

Alfred massaged his temples.

"And what's this _kaba_ stuff?"

"It is ground oatmeal with hot milk and butter. Very good. I cooked it while you rested."

"You cooked in our kitchen?" Alfred said. "Do you even know how to use a gas stove?"

"I had to make a few calls to my sister and Germania, but I was able to do so."

"You cooked for me?" Alfred felt a little touched. He was weak to anyone who made food for him, burnt or otherwise. "I'm still not coming out."

He punched his stomach when it growled again and winced at the pain. Stupid stomach. Crossing his leg, he urgently glanced around for anything that he could pee into without pissing off Mattie.

"You will not come out?" Ivan said and Alfred could hear the smirk. "Very well."

From the living room the man hummed and Alfred could hear him taking stuff off a shelf. Creeping toward the door, Alfred leaned over the drawer and pressed an ear to the wood.

"Hey, what're you doing?"

"Nothing, _Fredka_ ," Ivan said coldly. Alfred frowned at hearing this new nickname. It sounded like Ivan was scolding him for bad behavior. "Aw, you were such a cute baby."

 _Cute baby?_

Alfred's eyes bulged and he pounded a fist on the door.

"Hey, put that down!" he shouted. "Don't look through my family's photo album, you psycho!"

"Ah, and here is you dressed as a cowboy. _Kol kol kol_ ," he laughed. Alfred could hear him turning the pages.

A sinking horror spread through him. "Ivan, I'm warning you! Put that back now! You can't look at those photos!"

"Here you are as a space man!"

"Space Ranger, dumbass!"

"Oh, look here you are playing in the bath with a rubber duckie."

"Mr. Quackers! Don't you dare mock Mr. Quacker!" Alfred cried, grabbing the dresser and pushing it out of the way of the door.

He unlocked the door and threw it open, hands balled in fists and glaring at Ivan who sat smiling on the sofa with a little tray of the food he had described on the coffee table with several photo albums around it. He had one open on his lap.

"You bastard!" Alfred said, stomping over, he ripped the album away and grabbed the others before shoving them back on the shelf where they belonged. "Those are my family's precious memories!"

"Sit and eat ~" Ivan said, scooting to one end of the couch and patting the center.

"In a moment!" Alfred said and then hurried to the bathroom.

* * *

Every time Alfred had a reason to return to his room, Ivan came up with a reason for him to stay. The man was smothering him like a Boa Constrictor. He seemed determined to keep Alfred in his company by any means.

Just as he stood up, determined to leave, Ivan said, "I'll get you ice cream ~"

Alfred froze and slowly sat back down. In a very serious voice, he asked, "There is ice cream?"

"I put it in your ice box. It was brought in a styrofoam container."

"You brought ice cream?" A part of Alfred wanted to kiss Ivan for that. The man was a genius!

"Da ~"

"What flavor?" Alfred asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Ivan glanced at the tub of ice cream he had gone to the kitchen to fetch and read, "Rocky Road?" He sounded confused by the name.

"R-rocky Road?" Alfred breathed, heart soaring, mind exploding in a firework display of happiness. It had been too long.

 _Damn this bastard… how did he know my kryptonite?_

Clearly, Ivan was an evil genius. He had left Alfred with no choice.

"Spoons are in the top drawer by the sink. Bowls are in the cabinet," Alfred said, pointing at each. "I demand no less than three — five — scoops."

"You'll stay out here ~"

Alfred ground his teeth. "Just hurry up."

His mouth watered at the thought of Rocky Road.

When Ivan brought over the bowl of five scoops, Alfred teared up a bit. Ice cream had been a luxury they could seldom afford and he was the only in the family who liked Rocky Road. So they always got the flavor everyone liked: vanilla.

He picked up the spoon as if drawing Excalibur, in his mind a light from the heaven shined down and heroic music played as he held his spoon high. As the Tick would say "SPOOON!".

The metal slid into the chocolate brown and vanilla mixture and Alfred shoved that into his mouth, moaning around the sweet flavor. His eyes fluttered shut. He felt the low moan in his throat as he swallowed the heavenly-tasting ice cream.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Ivan staring very intently at his mouth. The pale man's face had pinked considerably.

"What?" Alfred grumbled, feeling unnerved by Ivan's staring. "Do you mind?"

"That… sound. That is quite a sound you make." Ivan cleared his throat, loosening his scarf.

"You mean the sound of a person happy? Yeah, I bet you don't know what that sounds like." Alfred rolled his eyes, waggling his spoon at Ivan. "I always make that sound when something makes me feel good." Ivan's eyes grew wider and his blush deepened. Alfred didn't really seem to notice as he continued. "Nothing beats ice cream on the cone. Sometimes I get so impatient that I swallow the whole thing in one go. My brother is always going on about my lack of gag reflex. I suppose it's a gift of mine. Geez, would you stop staring at me like that!"

"Uh…" Ivan said, blinking.

Alfred frowned, taking another bite. He uttered another satisfied moan and scowled, spoon still in his mouth, watching as Ivan swallowed hard. Finally, Ivan turned to stare at the TV, looking fascinated by a commercial on toothpaste.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow as Ivan started looked red all over and… feverish. He was beginning to sweat.

For some reason Ivan grabbed one of Tino's gold-threaded throw pillows and set it on his lap, looking very concentrated on the TV, but not really seeing it.

Finally, it hit Alfred.

"Oh," he said, waving the spoon at Ivan. He gave the spoon a slow lick, keeping the blushing Ivan in his gaze. The man was going several shades of red and starting to almost pant. "I get it. You're afraid of germs."

Ivan cleared his throat.

"That's it! The big guy doesn't want to get sick, huh?" Alfred said, flashing a cocky grin. He scooped up some more ice cream and licked the top, flicking out his tongue. Then held out the spoon with partly-licked ice cream. "C'mon, Ivan. How about you try some? Afraid of my taste?"

Ivan's fingers sank into the pillow and his legs tightened together.

"Afraid to swallow?" Alfred taunted, loving Ivan's discomfort. Then he stuck the spoon in his mouth, making a show of sucking on the flavor. "Yummy. A little Al in your mouth ain't gonna hurt ya."

When he gave another loud moan, Ivan jumped to his feet, clutching the pillow in front of his crotch and said, "Toilet."

"Second door on the left."

Then Ivan bolted and left a stunned Alfred. The door slammed behind Ivan who all but ran inside.

"What was his problem?" Alfred wondered. "If he's that afraid of getting sick, he shouldn't have volunteered to take care of me."

* * *

"Hey, commie bastard, you taking a dump or what?" Alfred called, now on his third bowl of ice cream. "Better not stink in there!"

A strained grunt, one that vaguely sounded like a guttural moan, came out. A few more followed.

"Boy, he's really squeezing one out," Alfred thought, losing his appetite. He set the bowl down and turned down the volume on the TV, listening intently.

What the hell was Ivan doing in there?

More of those soft grunts came out, getting more frequent and then finally an "Aaah." The hairs rose on Al's name. He swore it almost sounded like Ivan was saying his name.

After the toilet flushed, the door opened and Ivan paused to lean again the frame. He looked winded. Sweat matted his pale blonde hair and he carried the pillow still in one hand.

"I have relieved myself ~" Ivan said breathily. His eyes had a please, slightly-glazed over look.

"Thanks for sharing, jackass," Alfred said with a roll of his eyes. "Who brings a throw pillow into a restroom? You're disinfecting that."

When Ivan didn't respond, he glanced over to see the man admiring the photos on the wall. Studying the larger one, Ivan said, "Is this your house?"

"It was _our_ house," Alfred said sadly. "Now it's someone else's."

Ivan went quiet, studying Alfred.

"You weren't always poor?" Ivan asked.

"No," Alfred said, playing with the threading on the brown sofa. "Tino lost his job after the big recession. And stuff happened and we had to move here."

"But couldn't family help?" Ivan asked, sounding curious as he came and sat down. The couch's cushions sagged toward his wet, almost driving Alfred to slide toward him.

"Berwald is disowned for certain _life_ choices and Tino has no family. His parents died when he was young and he was raised in foster care. Dad's life has been full of hardships," Alfred said sadly.

After a long pause, Ivan said, "That must have been hard."

"What would you know about losing everything?" Alfred said, frowning. He was met with a very serious, almost forlorn look.

"More than I care to say," Ivan said, staring at the dented and scratched pine coffee table. "You're home is very…"

"Poor?"

"Colorful."

Alfred blinked. He glanced around at the brown, grey shithole they lived in.

"You're joking right?" he asked.

"About what?" Ivan asked.

Alfred groaned, slapping a palm against his forehead. Then he found himself laughing softly at the absurdity.

"Well, thanks for the ice cream," Alfred said without a hint of sarcasm as he stood up.

He started to slide past Ivan when the man caught his wrist with a, "Wait!"

"What now?" Alfred said, trying to shake Ivan large hand off his wrist. The man was attached like a barnacle. "I'm really tired. I need to get well before tomorrow."

Although he tugged, Ivann would not let go. For a moment he worried, Ivan was back on the vaseline idea, but instead Ivan said, "We could watch a movie."

Alfred lifted an eyebrow and asked, "What kind of movie?"

Ivan let go and said cheerfully, "I found a DVD hidden behind several books. I believe it's a delightful comedy romance. There is a masked man splitting a young college-aged woman in two with a chainsaw on the cover! ~"

"Blood Bath Four: A New Beginning!" Alfred said, hitting his fist into his palm. "So Mattie lied. They hid it from me."

"We watch?"

Afred crossed his arms. "Fine, but some rules. Stay on your side of the couch!"

And he had never seen Ivan happier. Actually, he had never seen Ivan really happy before and deep down, Alfred wondered did he have that much affect over the guy?

Well, just a few minutes wouldn't hurt. After all, Alfred was a brave hero who never got scared of movies.

* * *

TBC in … "The Horror Is Not In The Movie"

As the college kids get hacked to bits, Ivan discovers a softer and more affectionate side to Alfred.

* * *

 **Note -** The Tick was a popular cartoon back in the day and his line was always "Spoon!".


	15. The Horror Is Not In The Movie

**Acknowledgements** — Next chapter I'll do a proper one for everyone who commented! Thank you all for your amazing support for this story. :)

* * *

 **Note —** The horror movie is based on the fan-made game _Heta Oni_ and the characters are borrowed from _Nyotalia_. Alice (A-lee-CHEE-ah) is female Italy and Rose is female England and Anya is female Russia. I relied on the canon for their descriptions.)

* * *

 **The Horror Is Not In the Movie**

* * *

When Alfred reached for another handful of Alvin Ord's butter popcorn, suddenly Ivan's hand was there. He tensed, yanking his hand back like he had touched a snake.

Ivan continued to watch the opening credits from his side of the couch like nothing had happened. Alfred snatched a handful of popcorn from the glass bowl and crammed it into his mouth.

"Too much salt isn't good for you," Ivan said, without looking over.

"Coke would wash it down," Alfred said, grabbing the glass of _golog_ , whatever the Russian drink was called. It did seem to help.

"Too much sugar is bad for your immune system."

Alfred rolled his eyes, mumbling, "You're worse than Mattie."

The third time he grabbed for popcorn, his fingers met Ivan's and the bastard actually tried to entwine their digits.

Alfred ripped his hand away. Ivan stared at the TV, chin resting on the palm of his arm that was one the arm rest. He had that innocent smile, one that said he had done nothing wrong.

Normally, Alfred would keep the glass bowl of warm popcorn in his lap, but he had quickly learned that meant Ivan reaching _into_ his lap for kernels. Now it stayed in the middle of the couch.

On the sixth time, Ivan covered Alfred's hand.

"That does it!" Alfred said, pulling his hand back with a fistful of popcorn. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" Ivan asked, blinking a couple times.

"You know what, you bastard!"

Ivan tilted his head, brow furrowing. "You should explain. Is it that you want me to rub vaseline on your chest."

Alfred's eyes narrowed and he grabbed on of the throw pillows on his side and threw it at Ivan's face. It hit dead on, yet Ivan only smiled wider and set it in behind his head.

"Thank you, Sunflower. I need more support for my head. This couch is not meant for people of my height. You're very thoughtful ~!"

Alfred grunted. "Shut up and watch the movie."

With that, Alfred began popping popcorn into his mouth one by one, staving off his next risky reach.

The popcorn war had just begun.

* * *

"No! Don't go in! You never go in!" Alfred said, licking salt from his fingers. His eyes felt so widened. "That's the first rule of a horror movie! Don't enter the creepy house."

His legs were folded to his chest and he hugged the last remaining throw pillow on his side. Ivan now had five, all thrown in his face and taken prisoner.

"They can't hear you," Ivan said as if Alfred were stupid.

"I'm aware." Alfred did not look at Ivan.

"Then why are you yelling at them?"

Alfred sighed. "It's part of the movie experience."

"It is? I thought theatres didn't allow talking."

"Does this look like a theater?" Alfred said. "Haven't you ever watched a movie at home?"

" _Nyet_."

Turning his head slowly to Ivan, Alfred asked, "You're joking, right? Not even with family? I mean c'mon."

"My sisters and I once tried to watch a movie together. We decided on a traditional American family film. I believe it was called _Hellraiser_ ," Ivan said, looking at the ceiling in thought. His silvery-eyebrows climbed up his broad forehead. "Unfortunately, we could not finish. My younger sister tends to climb into my lap and grope my chest if I am seated. We decided it's best that I never sit down if she is in the room."

Alfred felt his jaw drop. His brain froze for a couple seconds as he tried to process that.

"You're sister… as in your biological sister… does what?" Alfred said.

"She's better now. Now she just crawls into my bed if we are ever in the same building and I forget to secure the windows and barricade my door and set traps," Ivan said reassuringly.

For a few moments Alfred forgot about the movie and stared at Ivan.

 _The crazy runs in the family…_

* * *

 _"Don't worry, Daniel, where there is a will there is a way!" Alice whispered in her thick Italian accent. She held the butcher knife to her chest._

 _"I believe in you," Daniel mouthed. He was from Hungary. He hefted a frying pan, crouching behind a corner on the opposite side of the hallway entrance._

 _Alice had her hair tied back in a ponytail, one wild hair curl dangling down the side of her head. Her bright amber eyes had a mustard yellow hue in the dim light. She wore a short-sleeved khaki shirt and skirt._

 _Rose, their English companion, clapped hands over her mouth, as they heard the sounds of_ Tony _. A madman roaming the haunted mansion with a chainsaw and who hid his deformed face under a grey alien mask._

 _From the camera angle, the viewer could see him look their way, but then he kept on down the hall._

 _They all slumped in relief._

"You should not bite your nails," said a rude, condescending, high-pitched voice.

Alfred nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. Clutching his chest, he rounded on Ivan and yelled, "Don't do that!"

"But your nails are not tasty. They probably have dirt underneath."

"I'm watching a movie and it's a tense part!" Alfred said, then noticed how close Ivan had gotten. "Hey! Get back to your side!"

"I am on my side," Ivan said, gesturing at the middle. "I have not invaded your territory yet, unless you wish me to." He said the last power in a lower pitched voice like it was an offer.

"No, all the way on your side." Alfred pointed.

Suddenly, screams and a chainsaw blaring brought him back to the movie and he covered his eyes with his hands as the french girl lost her arm and then half her head. He heard the sound of the body parts hitting the floor.

"This is why you don't enter haunted mansions!" Alfred said, peeking between his fingers and relaxing when it was over and back to a calmer scene.

"But it was raining."

"They're getting murdered!"

"But at least they're dry," Ivan said. "If they were wet, they could catch a cold. Look at yourself."

His eyes began to twitch. He really wanted to punch Ivan.

Before he could say anything, Ivan giggled at a scene of the German woman fleeing down the staircase with the Japanese girl.

"American comedies are delightful," Ivan said.

"This isn't a comedy, dumbass."

"But of course it is. Hollywood makes wonderful comedies."

Having a sudden suspicion, Alfred asked, "Name your favorite American comedies."

"Let's see," Ivan said, holding out a finger for each one he named. "All the _Saw_ movies, those lovely _Hostel_ movies, and I greatly enjoyed those movies about that cannibal."

" _Hannibal Lector?_ "

"Da, he is fun. I would enjoy a conversation with him."

Alfred groaned, slapping a palm to his forehead. "Those aren't comedies, asshole. You're supposed to be scare," adding quickly, "n-not that I am. The hero never gets scared."

"Scared of what?" Ivan asked, sounding confused.

"I don't know. How about people being murdered? Do I have to spell it out?"

"They are weak and stupid. If they were smart they would not die. If I were in such a situation, the attacker would beg me for the honor of taking their life," Ivan said, voice darkly tinged.

Alfred gaped at him, pushing his back into the arm rest. He could visualize it. What twisted nightmare would Ivan subject Freddy Kruger to? Probably one involving pipes.

Suppressing a shudder, Alfred pointed at the movie and said, "Erm… Well, I hope Alice lives. I like her."

For some reason Ivan grew very rigid and stared very intently at Alfred.

"What?" Alfred snapped, coughing into his hands a couple times. Whatever that doctor gave him, had already started to make him feel better. Drowsy, but better.

"You like her?" Ivan said in a low voice.

"Yeah, she's cute and strong-spirited and —."

"But she's not your type," Ivan interrupted. "My sources confirmed that you did not like such people."

"Well, they were wrong. I like who I like," Alfred said, crossing his arms and setting his socked feet on the coffee table. Something he would never do in front of Tino.

Ivan's knuckles whitened as he gripped his knees. In that high voice, he smiled and said, "I look for to her dismemberment."

Alfred groaned. What was Ivan's problem?

She seemed like a cool friend.

* * *

"Rose will die," Ivan said.

Alfred ignored him. So focused on the TV he hardly noticed Ivan's slide onto his side of the couch or when Ivan's arm snaked behind him to rest on the top of the couch.

"After all, if I were the killer, I'd hunt for the weakest among the herd," Ivan said.

Alfred hardly noticed. He watched as Anya, the russian woman with the _Matryoshka_ doll as Ivan called it, tried to chop through a door to get in to save Rose and Alice who were trapped in a room while Tony tried to hack in through a different door.

When the killer's door fell apart first, Alfred did not even resist being pulled to Ivan's chest. The warmth and pressure felt nice.

* * *

"Oh my God, they killed Rose. Those bastards!" Alfred said.

He had somehow ended up wrapped around Ivan who petted his hair. Every time he tried to pull away, a new character met a grisly end from Francoise to Daniel.

This was Matthew's fault. He was supposed to watch these movies with Alfred.

As Alice kicked and screamed as Tony chased after her, Alfred buried his face against Ivan's shoulder and yelled, "Tell me when the scary's parts over!"

"It's over," Ivan said as the rest of Rose fell into the meat grinder.

With a manly shriek, Alfred hit Ivan's shoulder and said, "Over! I said over. That's not funny!"

Ivan blinked. "What's the scary part?"

Alfred glared at Ivan. "You can't be that dumb. When they're being gutted!" he gestured at the TV.

"That is scary?" Ivan tilted his head.

"What planet are you from? They're dying!"

"Only because they don't make sacrifices. They should use Alice and Rose as live bait, lure the killer into a room full of traps. Then, as he slaughters them, hack them to bits."

"Don't you mean tries to slaughter them?"

Ivan smiled and went back to watching the movie.

By the time the movie is over, Alfred was sleepy. He tried to stay awake through the credits, but he had taken the next of his medicine and found his eyes drifting shut.

The soft rise and fall of Ivan's chest was somehow relaxing.

He kept telling himself he would get up. This was his arch enemy.

* * *

He was running down the hall, pursued by a giant man in a grey alien mask. All he had were his pistols and they were empty.

He rounded a corner and hit into a soft, warm wall, one that immediately wrapped arms around him. Alfred struggled and then still at a chilling laughter.

Craning his head up, he saw it was no wall, but Ivan Braginski he had run into.

"There's no need to fear Sunflower. You're safe with me," Ivan said, lifting Alfred up in a bridal pose.

"Put me down!" Alfred said. Suddenly, his guns were gone and he could not move.

A bed appeared and the walls of the hallway disappeared as Ivan carried him toward the gigantic four canopy bed. He had seen it before when he awoke in Ivan's mansion. It was the sunflower bed.

"Stop!" Alfred said, heart laboring. "I'm not ready!"

"We can't. You are mine," Ivan breathed in his hear, sending a shiver through Alfred.

"I'm not ready to lose my virginity!" Alfred said, blushing all over. "It's my ticket to surviving horror movies! The virgin always lives!"

He squeaked as he was tossed on the bed and Ivan crawled over him. Those eyes held him.

"You don't need such protection when you have me. I'm far scarier than anything in a horror movie," Ivan said and leaned close, cupping Alfred's cheeks.

Their lips were seconds from meeting when —

The shut of the door woke Alfred who sat bolt upright as the lights from the kitchen flipped on. He had fallen asleep on the couch and someone laid a quilt over him.

"Al, are you feeling better?" Berwald called, setting his bags on the kitchen table.

"Dad, you're home early."

"It's seven o'clock."

Alfred realized the sun had set. He glanced around, even looked under the coffee table.

"Where's that bastard Ivan go?"

"Who?"

Alfred noticed a sheet of paper and a phone on the table.

He grabbed the paper, skimming over Ivan's tiny, anal writing to see that he had left earlier and put everything away and reminding Alfred to take his medicine before bed.

There was also a note about his present of a phone and a warning: _answer it_.

Grabbing the I-phone, realizing that Ivan had bought him the phone and listed his own number in Alfred's number bank under the title, " _Boyfriend_ ".

"I'll kill him," Alfred said, crumbling the paper in one hand.

He quickly altered the name and realized… he felt a lot better.

And, with a glance at the quilt, he felt strangely happy.

* * *

 **TBC…** "Challenging Date Request".

Now that he's met half the folks, the Bad Touch Trio advise Ivan to ask Alfred out. However, the way he asks leads to Alfred misunderstanding…

* * *

( **Note —** This took so long to write. I don't think I did the best job on the writing. I just finally had to get it out. Hopefully next chapter I'll be more into things.)


	16. Bad Idea

**Note # 1 —** Bad news. I'm going on vacation. I won't have my desktop computer with access to my account. So no updates for a month. :(

But I will have my laptop and can write some updates during that month. So when I come back I should have one ready. :)

* * *

 **Acknowledgements**

A special thanks to everyone for your likes, favs, and to the commenters:

 **Starren PI (** thank you for your detailed comments) **, nicolai87 (** good call :) **, Rising from the Ashes YOLT, pastaaddict, , AMO, ivyshadow13, zen 4365, wicket, Canadaka-Eh, Asileme, Yami Mizauna, Rising From the Ashes YOLT, Alien 752, Black Noblesse, Double-Helix, sakerat, inviso-bella, Canawesomeguest, Iron Rose Writer, and 2 anons!**

* * *

 **Challenging Date Request**

* * *

"Enough," Alfred said.

"Don't stomp," Tino hissed in a low voice behind him. "You'll wake Hercules."

"Heracles, dad. It's Heracles," Alfred said over his shoulder as he tried to walk softer down the rickety steps of their building, one of his hands gliding along the peeling pea-green paint and the other down the oaken banister. "That guy sleeps too much."

"You should sleep more." Tino followed Alfred like a determined gnat.

Suppressing a cough, one that badly tickled his throat, Alfred said, "I'm fine. I'll stop for a hamburger and recharge my health meter!"

He flashed one of his award-winning grins over his shoulder, but only met Tino's unamused lavender gaze. His dad's soft hair stood up in the center, a sign he had not had a chance to run a brush through it. Tino wore his light blue bathrobe that was tied in at his waist, a white undershirt peeking out at the collar.

Alfred turned away, biting his lip to choke down the fit of coughing. Fortunately, illness rarely clogged his sinuses. Unfortunately, it made its home in his lungs and throat.

"Here. I'll give you money for a taxi. Riding up that hill will be the death of you," Tino said as they reached the bottom, both hopping over the second to last step that tripped all newcomers.

"That'll cost too much." Alfred grabbed Tony, kicking up the kickstand and picking him up by the rear tire and the handlebars. He carried him toward the door that Tino blocked. "I'm fine. I can't miss anymore school."

"Better a taxi fare than a hospital bill or worse a funeral when you catch your death!" Tino said, clasping his hands together and fixing his rounded eyes on Alfred's. It was the infamous puppy dog stare, one that Berwald could never refuse.

"I'm not Berwald," Alfred said. "Puppy dog eyes have no power over me."

"Curses!" Tino said, frowning. "Wait!"He threw out his hands as Alfred grabbed the brass door knob. "It's chilly! You don't have proper head gear!"

"I'm wearing a hoodie under this." Alfred nodded at his bomber jacket. "It has a hood. That's why it's called a hoo-die."

Nudging Tino aside, he turned the knob and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit, winter was definitely arriving, and he carried Tony through the door and down the four concrete steps of the stoop. When he looked up, he halted so suddenly that Tino collided with his back, nearly knocking them both over.

"Al… what's…" Tino trailed off as he noticed.

Dawn shadows draped the streets, held back in places by the sickly orange light of the few working street lamps. Any moment those would turn off. Standing under one that flickered was a limo and German who leaned against its passenger door while reading a newspaper.

"Lovely morning. Reminds me of this morning during the war. The air had been so crisp like this," Germania said, folding his newspaper and tucking it under his arm. After tipping the shiny, black brim of his hat, he opened the passenger door and held it. "Master Ivan sent me to drive you to school today. He worried you might try to go in your condition."

For a moment, Alfred's brain turned off. While rebooting, his mouth, as usual to his nature when ever his brain couldn't process something, decided to go with the "fuck it, just say anything" approach.

"Worried? You fucking kidding me? You tell that slimy piece of shit that I'd rather e— _ow, ow, ow!_ " Tino boxing his left ear turned his tirade into a series of yelps.

"We _never_ speak that way," Tino snapped. "Apologize!"

"Okay, okay! Let go! I'm sorry!" Alfred said.

The moment Tino let go, Alfred backed out of reach, rubbing his aching ear. "That hurt!"

The Chinese Bakers across the street — the few people up this early — pointed and stared at the limo, whispering among each other.

"Al, would be happy to accept Ivan's kind offer," Tino said as he grabbed Alfred's upper arm and dragged him toward the open limo door.

"I-I… _what? You crazy?_!" Alfred flinched at Tino's warning look. For a short, happy-go-lucky guy, he could be scary when he wanted to be. Berwald said Tino had lived a hard life. "I'm not getting in there. It's laced with bad vibes! I'll be gassed! I'll suffocate!"

Tino rolled his eyes, pushing Alfred as Alfred grabbed the sides of the door and held on.

"Stop being stubborn! You're sick!"

"If I was sick I —." A fit of hacking, doubled Alfred over and, in that moment of weakness, gave Tino the leverage to shove Alfred in. One moment he was outside, the next he had flopped onto the plush, leather cushioning.

Before he could climb out, Tino pushed in his feet and said "stay in there! Or no hamburgers for dinner!"

"What about Tony!" Alfred said, sitting up. "Wait… hamburgers?"

The door shut.

Alfred blinked. "Stupid illness," he wheezed, coughing into the seat. If he would ride in Ivan's stupid, evil limo, he'd spread his germs all over it. The bastard deserved it.

"Better be with cheddar cheese and sesame seed buns!" Alfred hollered.

Tino frowned, talking to Germania in a voice too low to hear as the man lifted up Tony and carried him to the trunk.

Alfred crossed his arms, scowling at the lush interior, hating everything in it.

"Stupid dad. Stupid Ivan. Stupid world," he muttered.

After Germania climbed into the driver's side, Alfred called, "So where's the lord of darkness? Couldn't bother to come here himself?"

"He'll meet you at school. He had some _preparations_ to take care of." Germania started the ignition.

Tensed, Alfred asked in a nervous voice, "What kind of preparations?"

"It's a surprise," Germania said, sliding on his sunglasses. "There's rocky road in the mini-fridge.

Then he hit a button that rose the darkened window sealing him off from Alfred.

"Hey! Wait!" Alfred said.

His eyes drifted down to the black mini-fridge behind the driver's seat.

* * *

"This is horrible. I'm in hell," Alfred said, between bites of his pint of Rocky Road. He was on his third pint. He licked melted ice cream of off his thumb. "That bastard can't do this to me, the awesome hero!"

He paused, eyes rolling up as he tasted a particularly yummy chocolate chip. A moan escaped his throat. Did they buy this ice cream from Heaven? Why did it taste so much better than anything bought in a store?

He didn't recognize the label name, some European brand.

If it was poison, he would die happy.

"Stupid leather interior," he muttered. It had to be Italian.

The evil air of this car would surely pollute his mind.

Tossing the plastic spoon in the cup, he set the empty container on the floor with its two brothers and glanced around, searching for any sign of a camera.

Germania appeared focused on driving. Just in case, Alfred scooted further behind the driver seat and then grabbed his duffel back, slipping out his folded uniform that was wrapped in a plastic bag. If he changed here, he could save time.

He wouldn't have to get naked. He could keep it to his sleeveless white shirt and superman boxers.

Just as he started to wiggle out of his jogging pants and had them to his knees a sickly-sweet voice overhead said, "Ah, I do enjoy a show."

With a yelp, Alfred shoved his pants back on and glanced around before finally settling his gaze on the small video screen that had appeared above him. It had somehow been hidden in the interior of the limo's roof.

"You!" Alfred said, staring at Ivan's image. "You've been spying on me!"

"Not at all," Ivan said, leaning back against a sunflower-tiled wall. There was a sloshing sound in the background.

Blinking, Alfred realized in shock that for the first time he could see Ivan's neck. The scarf was missing, even worse he could see Ivan's nipples and upper chest.

"Oh my God, are you naked?" Alfred cried, dropping his gaze. He flushed all over.

"Of course. Few people bathe in their clothing," Ivan answered simply, as if Alfred was an idiot.

"You called me _while_ you were bathing? You pervert!"

He glanced up once, curious about Ivan's neck. He felt hot all over and crossed his legs. Forcing himself to stare at Ivan's forehead, he tried not to note how muscular the man was and tried not to imagine how muscular other _places_ on the man probably were as well.

"Says the one who was stripping a moment ago."

"That wasn't for you!" Alfred said. "I wanted to change into my uniform."

A fit of coughing bubbled out and he turned away, his whole chest hurting from it.

"Sunflower, perha—."

"Alfred! Don't call me that!"

"Fredka, perhaps you should stay home."

"Don't you start!" Alfred interrupted. "I've had enough of that from my dad and brother. I'm going."

"That determined to see me? I'm touched." Alfred slapped a palm against his forehead with a groan. He glowered at the smiling Ivan.

"More like determined to see you six feet under or shoved in a meat grinder."

"Ah, a reference to that lovely romantic comedy from yesterday," Ivan said fondly.

Alfred rolled his eyes and began searching the buttons, wondering if there was a way to turn off the video. He started pressing them.

"Where's the mute button?" he asked.

The window cracked open, then closed, lights flashed in the interior.

"You shouldn't do that. You could hit the self-destruct."

"The _what?_ " Alfred froze.

Ivan giggled, tilting his head back, the laugh became a full on throaty one. One of the most sincere he had had ever heard from the man. It took Alfred a moment to realize Ivan had told a joke. Or at least he hoped so.

"Not funny," Alfred said, glancing under the camera. There were wires in the back. "Hope you drown in your bath."

As if he had not heard him, Ivan said, "I wish you were here… in my lap."

"I'd drown myself first."

He noted how long and thick Ivan's neck was, a fact hidden by the scarf, and, though the camera was pixelated, there were signs of scars.

"You sure have a fat neck to match your fat, ugly body," Alfred said.

"No, it's thick and long like other parts of me." Ivan's voice took on a sultry tone.

That took Alfred a moment and then he went behind the camera so Ivan would not see his blush.

Barking a laugh, Alfred said, "Yeah, right. Bet you wear extra-small condoms. The size of a thimble."

"No, I don't wear American-size. I can show you my girth."

There was a splashing sound of him standing up.

"N-no!"

Alfred ripped out the wires from the back of the camera, killing the feed before his eyes were damaged.

Destruction of property. His day was complete.

He sat back in the limo, running fingers through his hair, trying to ignore how his pants felt tighter in the front.

"That bastard," he panted, needing _relief_.

* * *

The moment Ivan set foot in their hangout, Francis and Antonio cornered him.

"Is it true?" they asked in unison. Francis added, "Did you visit the little American's home?"

Gilbert sat in his corner, only glancing over with mild disinterest.

"Da," Ivan said, pushing past them to sit down in his chair. He turned to his chess board to contemplate his morning move for the white.

"And you met his parents?" Francis asked.

"I met one," Ivan answered, barely glancing at Francis who gave an excited cry.

"Have you fucked yet?" Gilbert called.

"Hush!" Francis said in annoyance. "If you have met his family, then you should ask him on a date and romance him!"

Ivan looked up at that, tilting his head in thought.

"I should?"

"Oui!" Francis said as Antonio chimed "Si!"

"Fifty bucks says Ivan gets a restraining order slapped on him!" Gilbert called.

With a sniff, Francis said, "You must ask him and then let me plan your date. None know amor better than I."

Antonio rolled his eyes.

"You are correct for once!" Ivan stood up, rising to his full height. He grabbed Francis by the shoulders. "He even stripped his clothing off before me." Francis's eyes widened at that. "We must become official by any means."

"Any… means?" Antonio and Francis exchanged a nervous look.

Letting go of Francis, Ivan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his android smart phone. After hit a few buttons, he nodded and smiled.

"Wonderful. He brought my gift."

"Gift?"

"A phone with a GPS tracker in it. He wants me to know where he is," Ivan said with a gentle smile. "He likely keeps it close to his heart."

Gilbert gave a snort of laughter.

"Don't do anything rash," Francis said. "Let me help you with the approach. It's very important that you be clear."

Ivan giggled.

"I am always gentle," he said, opening the middler drawer of a dresser in his corner.

"Wait!" Francis said, grabbing his shoulder. "I'm serious, mon lapin. No threats or intimidation. If you ask, you must let him answer willingly."

"Don't be silly. I do not intimidate him," Ivan said as he took out a power drill and then headed for the door.

"What… what's that for?" Antonio asked, taking a step back.

"My sunflower often locks himself by accident in rooms when I'm around," Ivan said, strolling toward the door. "Such an idiot ~"

Francis massaged the bridge of his nose and muttered, "This won't end well."

When Ivan was gone, Antonio called to Gilbert, "A hundred bucks says Alfred _accidentally_ jumps out a window to get away."

"Two hundred says Alfred finds himself on a date before the week is done," Francis said, smiling at the door. "And a thousand says he winds up in bed with mon lapin before the year is over."

* * *

 **TBC in** **Part II of "Challenging Date Request"**

 _Next time, Ivan finds Alfred in the closet and gives a very forceful date request that Alfred misunderstands._

* * *

 **Note #1**

Sorry, I didn't get all of this out. I'm about to head on a long trip for a few weeks and worried I won't be posting until that's over. So this might be the last update for about four weeks.

Between packing and everything, I ran out of time to get all of this out. The next one is really good. If I manage to get it out, I'll post it, but that ends on a cliffhanger.


	17. Challenging Date Request

**Note —** I'm baaack! I rewrote this after getting hooked on Berserk. So Toris's portrayal might have been a *tad* influenced by my interest in the character Griffith.

* * *

 **Challenging Date Request**

* * *

 _"As a child my brother had a bad habit of breaking his toys. His pets always ran away._

 _By the time he was eight, he started attempting to make friends. Literally._

 _I wished he'd never read 'Frankenstein'. That was quite a task keeping him out of morgues and cemeteries. Mother and I had to convince him that 1.) it's illegal 2.) it's impossible and 3.) it's immoral to sew together and bring alive cadaver parts._

 _Children can believe the darnedest things._

 _Eventually, he simply made others be his friends. However, while that made him look popular, there was always something missing._

 _People have always misunderstood him. My brother has so much love. He just needed to find someone who wouldn't break from his affection…"_

 _— Katyusha in an interview about "Ivan Braginiski"._

* * *

"Ivan, gave you this?" Toris asked quietly.

A few strands had slipped out of his ponytail and curled just under the weak line of his jaw. A deep furrow had formed between his thin eyebrows. The soft, blue light of the I-phone screen shined in his eyes.

In a voice muffled by steak and mashed potatoes, Alfred said, "Yup. The ice cream too. What a dipshit."

His knife squeaked as he cut through the remaining half of his steak. He glanced up when Toris did not respond. Toris had lowered his head and the phone trembled in his hand.

"Tory?" The man sucked in sharply through his teeth and his lower lip quivered. "Dude, you okay?"

They sat on a flattened piece of cardboard on the concrete floor of a janitor's closet. A dingy light bulb flicked overhead. They had sneaked — dragged Toris — out of the cafeteria with their food at word of Ivan being nearby.

Finally, Toris said, "Ivan gave you an I-phone 8."

"So?"

Toris' nostrils flared; his jaw clenched. He looked up at Alfred with something akin to annoyance. "He gave _you_ an I-phone 8! This shouldn't be possible. It's not supposed to be available yet. But Ivan gets whatever he wants."

"Take it easy, dude," Alfred said, "It's not a big deal."

He reached out a hand for the phone. Reluctantly, Toris handed it over and Alfred tucked it away in his breast pocket.

"It's not fair," Alfred thought he heard Toris whisper.

Toris held his stomach, wincing and bending over a bit. "Are you okay?" Alfred asked, touching Toris' delicate wrist, but his friend jerked his hand away.

"Im fine." There was something frosty in Toris' tone. Bitter.

Sensing Toris was angry, Alfred tried to assuage the situation by saying, "Don't worry. I'll break it in his face later!"

However, his grin and thumbs-up did not cheer Toris up.

"Mmm 'kay," Toris said listlessly, prodding at a cherry tomato with his fork.

"He was just showing off. You know what's he like," Alfred said, feeling sure something was wrong. His every word seemed to make it worse. "He'll get what's coming to him! You'll see."

"Guys like Ivan never get what they really _deserve_."

There was something very deliberate in Toris' words. Something hidden.

Attempting to lighten things with humor, Alfred said, "Can you believe that asshole put me in as 'boyfriend'? Like hell that'll ever happen."

His grin faltered when Toris stabbed the tomato, red sluice squirting around the prongs of the fork.

"Tory, I was wondering. Did Ivan do something to y—."

"Do we have to stay in the closet?" Toris interrupted, glancing around.

"Uh… well, don't think of it as a closet! Think of it as our own private getaway!"

"We're in the closet," Toris said. "It smells like cleaning liquid. And the shelf next to me is stuffed with sanitary napkins. For all your talk, you sure avoid confronting Ivan."

"H-hey now! That's uncalled for! The hero never runs. You know that. This is more of a tactical retreat."

"Riiight."

They both tensed, dropping their silverware when Ivan called sweetly from the other side of the heavy, metal door, "Sunflower ~ Come out! Come out where ever you are!"

Before Toris could make a peep, Alfred lunged across their plates and clapped his hand over his friend's mouth and breathed in his ear, "Don't make a sound."

Toris nodded vigorously.

"Are we playing hide and seek?" Ivan called.

"He can't get in. It's a steel door, heavily reinforced," Alfred whispered as they both stared at it. He could see the shadow of Ivan's feet under the door frame.

There was a whirring sound followed by what sounded like something being drilled into.

"Oh shit," Alfred said, realizing what Ivan was doing. "Quick!" He grabbed Toris's wrist and pulled him toward the back corner of the room, walking over and on boxes and equipment toward a small, grimy window. "Can we get through that?"

"Depends. Can you detach your torso?" Toris said in that deathly serious way that made Alfred wonder if he was joking. He stood, back straight, staring up at the narrow window, lost in thought.

"Shit! Fight it is!" Alfred said, grabbing a crowbar that was propped against the wall. He stepped protectively in front of Toris. "Stay behind me. The hero will save you!"

Outside screws clattered to the linoleum.

"I can defend myself," Toris said, grabbing a rubber hose, one that went limp in his hands. He stared at it in a puzzled way.

"No way! Leave the fightin' to the hero. Besides, Tory, you got a more important task. Something you were born to be." He stared over his shoulder into Toris' widening green eyes.

"What would that be?"

"My back up." Alfred slapped on his most charming grin and gave a thumbs-up. Then he turned back to the door just as it fell inward, crushed their plates and threw up motes of dust.

He coughed into his sleeve. When he turned back, Ivan had entered. The door groaned under the tall man's weight. Several students gaped from the hall.

"Ah, what a coincidence! And… _another?_ " Ivan's eyes narrowed and his grip on the screwdriver tightened as he glared beyond Alfred to Toris.

"Leave him alone," Alfred warned, feeling Toris clutch at the back of his jacket.

"Do you often sneak into the closet together?" Ivan's voice held a clear accusation. It was also clear who he blamed for it. Toris gave a nervous hiccup behind Alfred. "What have you been doing in here?"

Ivan sounded as if had decided what they had been doing.

"We were enjoying a meal until you ruined it." He patted the head of the crowbar against his other palm. "So why don't you make like a tree and _leave_."

That was one of his favorite quotes from _Back To the Future_.

When it went over Ivan's head, Alfred added, "Get out! You promised you'd never approach me. You're such a lying asshole."

As if slapped, Ivan blinked, his sweet smile briefly falling off.

"I… I didn't approach you. I needed an item in here," Ivan said and grabbed the first thing in arm's reach — a white, gallon-sized bottle of bleach — and held it up. "Ah, here it is!"

"Bullshit! You stalked me here! And what the hell do you need bleach for?" Toris cleared his throat behind him. Suddenly, it hit Alfred and he stepped back, standing protectively in front of Toris. "What the hell are you planning?"

"Since you're here, in the vicinity of the bleach I needed, I should inform you of something."

"Another step and I'll kick your fuckin' ass!" Alfred said, back pressing into the metal shelf as Ivan came within a foot.

Ivan stopped. He loomed over Alfred, breathing heavily, an intense look in his eyes as he stared into Alfred's eyes.

For a moment it felt like it was only the two of them. Alfred tried not to glance at those well-formed lips, pink like bubblegum cough syrup, and wonder of his taste.

Finally, Ivan spoke in a deep, almost strained way. "This Sunday. Ten am. In front of Ruya's statue in Himaruya Park. _Do not forget and do not be late_."

Then he smiled, revealing teeth, and rounded on his heel, and stormed out with the bottle of bleach and power drill. He paused only to say over this shoulder, "And… Toris was it?"

"Y-yes?"

" _Leave the closet_." The warning in Ivan's tone chilled even Alfred's blood. It held a very sincere, ' _or else'._

 _"We'll never the leave closet!_ " Alfred shouted defiantly. Toris groaned behind him. "You can't tell me what to do, commie scum! I _love_ being in the closet. In fact, I plan to make the closet my new home."

Some people giggled outside.

"Al," Toris hissed, tugging on Alfred's sleeve. "Stop speaking. _Please_."

"Why? That jerk can't order us outta this closet or any other," Alfred said, confused why Toris wasn't backing him up on this. "I don't mind being in the closet. Do you?"

Toris slapped a palm to his face, blushing red.

A few peeked inside until Alfred snapped, "Get out of here!"

They jumped and soon cleared out, but continued laughing and snickering. Had Alfred said something funny?

"What the hell…" Alfred said, carding his fingers through his hair.

A stunned Toris dropped the rubber hose and slid to his knees, hugging himself. He stared at nothing, not even looking up as he whimpered, "Do… do you realize what happened?"

"Incredible right?" Alfred said and, shaking his fist at the door, added, "Braginski, totally fucking challenged me to a duel! It's fucking on! I'm getting my bat!"

"No, Al!" Toris said, looking up sharply. "He asked you on a date."

For a moment Alfred blinked at Toris, then doubled over, laughing. After straightening up and wiping a tear out of his eye, he said "Oh man, that's a good one. C'mon. He did not."

"He did!" Toris grabbed Alfred's wrist, squeezing. "He asked you out."

"No way. What about that screamed date?" He jerked a thumb at the door. A few onlookers peered in until Alfred yelled, "What did I say?"

They scurried off.

"It's true. It's how Braginski works!"

"He does…" Wheels began to grind in Alfred's head. His eyes slowly widened. Color drained from his face. "Holy shit…"

"Well?"

"Huh?" Alfred shook his head, snapping out of a trance. "Well, what?"

"Will you go?" Toris leaned forward, voice saturated with curiosity.

Alfred fell silent, thinking of all that Ivan had done. Something ached in his heart as he remembered how Ivan cared for him while he was sick and the strange cruel innocence of Ivan. However, Alfred could not forget the attack in the alley and how Ivan had hurt others.

A few nice deeds did not make amends. Ivan was a bad guy, Alfred reminded himself. A villain. Dating Ivan would be like playing Russian Roulette, you never known when the chamber was loaded. And maybe Alfred found the risk magnetic.

 _I can't. He's opposite of everything I stand for!_ _Superman does not date Lex Luthor!_

"Hell no," Alfred said finally. "I'm not giving fucking Braginski my only day off. That asshole can enjoy being stood up."

"B-but…" Toris licked his lips, pink tongue darted out. He hugged himself. "I-Is that fine?"

"I'm not afraid of him," Alfred insisted. "Maybe it'll finally sink in that I'm not interested. Like I'd date the bastard that yellow-carded you. I'd rather date someone I like."

Toris eyes almost seemed to sparkle as they widened. Standing up, he placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Alfred… would you… would you…" in a very low voice, " _go out with me this Sunday?"_

"As in a date?" Alfred blurted out, mind in shock.

Toris's face crumpled before his eyes and his hands started to pull away when Alfred caught it. The man looked over hopefully.

"I… I suppose we could… erm…" Alfred studied his feet, finding himself blushing. Not in the same way he did with Ivan, but from a stranger feeling of embarrassment. He didn't want to hurt Toris's feelings. "You like guys?"

"I like you," Toris said. "I like people who aren't afraid to be themselves."

"Are you sure?" Alfred swallowed hard. A memory came back of an exchange between him and Matthew.

 _"Mattie, it's not crazy. That's how true love works. You meet each other and bam! The fireworks explode and the "Never Gonna Give You Up" starts. Then the aliens invade and after I blow them away with my awesome, American-made firepower and save the world, we become a couple. You know, first the action,_ then _the action."_

 _"Stop watching that Hollywood crap," Matthew said with a heavy sigh. "That's not how love works. You have to try dating people. There is no such thing as instant love. That's only in movies and books."_

While he knew Matthew wasn't right — because love had to be like the movies — he did wonder if he should at least try it.

"All right," he said. "Let's go out on Sunday. Ivan can enjoy getting stood up."

It could be fun.

"You won't regret it," Toris said, smiling serenely at him. "I know a great place…"

As Toris chattered on about possible plans, Alfred felt a growing since of guilt.

Ivan would get over it. Alfred would not be sorry. It's not like Ivan really liked him. It was just a stupid crush.

* * *

TBC in… "Wait For Me"

Ivan stands, holding a sunflower, waiting hopefully as the sky darkens above and heavy snow begins to fall. And he'll wait in the plummeting temperatures for hours for a man who isn't coming…

* * *

 **Note —** I hope there are still fans for this story after that little wait. :)


	18. Wait For Me Pt One

**Note -** Woah! This last update got such a response! Thank you everyone! I got out the first half of the next chapter. I hope it lives up to your expectations as we get into the meat of the story. I'll get acknowledgements out in a couple chapters!

* * *

 **Wait For Me**

* * *

"I'm here!" called a loud, obnoxious voice.

During the brief instant that Ivan turned to the speaker, his lips began to lift in a faint smile. One that dimmed and disappeared when he saw a darkly-tanned man with wavy brown hair. A man who ran past Ivan and straight into the arms of a country-bumpkin girl behind him.

Laughing, he spun her around by the waist as she yelled, "Baby, I missed you!"

Soon they were kissing and exchanging greetings. Ivan snorted in disgust and put his back to them as he once more watched the park entrance. He leaned one shoulder against the round base of the Ruya Statue.

His thick fingers clenched around the stems of the bouquet of sunflowers, all tied together by a sky-blue ribbon, as he heard the couple's slobbering kisses.

As the lovebirds walked off and drifted out of earshot, he heard the man say, "Traffic is awful right now. That blizzard is supposed to hit tonight…"

Glancing down at the sunflowers, Ivan could see their droop. In an attempt to shelter them from the cold, he opened his coat and held them against his heart. Sometimes it felt like his heart would fall out.

Ivan shifted on his aching feet, slumping against the cold marble.

He needed no forecast to know bitter weather would come; Ivan had always had a sense about cold weather.

After taking out his Android phone, snug in a titanium case, he checked the time.

 _10:30 am_

If Alfred did not arrive soon, Ivan would have to cancel the breakfast had arranged — he had booked the entire restaurant for just the two of them.

Then a helicopter would take them to the Jet lessons, since he knew Alfred liked any vehicle that could hit supersonic speeds. After that it was a special lunch. The fireworks display might have to be canceled due to the weather as well as the private concert with Gilbert's father and his rock band.

Something cold landed on Ivan's nose. He brushed it off to find a snowflake, one that stared up from the black leather of his gloved palm. More joined it as they began to fall from the steel-grey down.

With a sigh, he punched the call button for Alfred's number. It went to dial tone.

He growled and scrolled through his phone book, thumb hovering over the mayor's personal cell phone number. Ivan could do it. He could call in a few favors.

 _'Vanya, promise me_ ,' Katyusha had said when Ivan called her for dating advice this morning. _'If he does not show, you will accept it._ '

He called that notion ridiculous, but finally agreed. It was absurd.

Ivan had seen the way Alfred's eyes drank him in, the heated looks, and the _need_ burning inside their blue irises. It was a wonder Alfred had not tackled Ivan to the ground by now. The desire was so obvious.

Why did the man insist on playing hard-to-get?

People had played this game Ivan's whole life. Whenever he found a friend, they always played Hide and Seek. Sometimes jumping out windows not to hide from Ivan.

In his youth, Katyusha taught Ivan to smile.

" _Always show that sweet smile of yours. It'll calm people_ ," she had told him when he was eight years old.

What if he's hurt? Ivan worried, fearful something had happened.

 _No_ , he told himself; he had promised Katyusha. Even broken and bleeding, Alfred would have to come of his own free will. And then Ivan would make Alfred smile at him for once. That smile that he fell to sleep at night thinking of.

It had never been directed at Ivan, but it would be today.

He clutched his heart. It hurt. Sometimes it felt like it might fall out of his chest.

Alfred was different. He challenged Ivan and never backed down. He seemed like a man that even Ivan couldn't break. And Ivan never let go of those defied him.

The snap of a photo and the giggle of girls, brought his gaze to three teenage girls, all in expensive coats, cooing over how handsome he was. He smiled _sweetly_ at them and their giggles stopped, fright filling their eyes.

They fled.

Smiles did solve problems. Katyusha had been right.

He gazed up at the sky, giving a prayer.

What was this ache in his heart?

At 10:40 am, he dialed Alfred's number. It went to dial tone.

After checking his GPS, Ivan saw Alfred still home. No, that wasn't right. The phone was home. Had Alfred forgotten it?

Maybe he was lost, Ivan thought.

The idiot had a terrible sense of direction — always getting locked in closets, diving behind desks, or leaping out windows when Ivan saw him.

 _He'll come, right?_ Ivan wondered, staring up at the heavens. Fluffy flakes floated down. The cold wind was his only answer.

Ivan closed his eyes. He had to be patient. Alfred was slow to realize thing, but his heart would see true. That he loved Ivan and Ivan loved him.

 _Just be patient and believe._

The hero would come. Ivan just had to wait.

* * *

The hamburger tasted like ash. Alfred couldn't finish it.

"Is something wrong?" Toris asked, watching Alfred set his half-eaten Quarter Pounder in the wrapping.

"I'm full," Alfred said, forcing on a grin. "Still a bit sick."

"Oh, should we cancel?" Toris asked, glancing out the window of the McDonald's, frosted at the edges. White snow had clumped on its sill outside. "It's really coming down."

"It's fine." Alfred felt sick inside. He should be happy. He should be elated to put Ivan in his place, so why did he only feel awful.

 _He isn't still there. No one would wait this long_ , Alfred told himself, glancing discretely at his watch.

Even more surprising had been the lack of kidnapping or SWAT team that Alfred had expected Ivan to send after him. Maybe it all had been just a crush.

No one had come after him.

 _3:25 pm._

The streets had become white and cars crawled along.

"Its starting to come down," Toris said.

"Yeah," Alfred said. "Let's… let's go to the movie."

Instead of happiness, Alfred found himself walking downcast like a man being marched to torture.

 _Ivan went home_ , Alfred said.

He almost wrenched his hand away when Toris' slender fingers enclosed around his wrist. Fighting his urge to pull away, he held that cool, clammy hand slide around his palm.

Why did this feel so wrong?

For the umpteenth time, Alfred wished he had brought Ivan's phone.

 _He's not still out there. No one would be dumb enough to wait in that kind of winter._

Now Alfred had only to believe that.

The villain didn't deserve to be saved.

* * *

 **Note #1** — Sorry I broke this chapter in half. I'm still kinda jetlagged.

* * *

TBC in… "Wait For Me Part 2"


	19. Wait For Me Pt Deux

**Note #1 -** Gotta work on getting caught up on acknowledgements. Thank you everyone so, so much for all your likes, favs, and comments to this.

* * *

 **Wait for Me (Pt. Deux)**

* * *

"That was some excellent camera work. Did you see how they…" Toris prattled on about the movie "Paint It White" that Alfred had fallen asleep through half of.

Not really listening, Alfred nodded and answered "Yeah" and "Is that so?"

Sliding up the sleeve of his brown coat, he saw the time on his wristwatch was _6:30 pm_. As they approached the glass doors of the theatre, he saw the growing flurry outside in the darkening gloom of the parking lot.

Alfred felt sick inside, gnawed at.

Throughout the movie he had wondered about Ivan. Even that jerk would not be so moronic as to wait in this. So why did Alfred feel so worried?

"Al!"

"Wh-what?" Alfred said, blinking.

Toris frowned at him. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Uh… yeah. That sounds good," Alfred said, trying to recall what Toris had said.

Eyebrows turned down around Toris' dark green eyes and he lifted up a hand and placed a cool palm on Alfred's cheek. Despite wanting to step away, Alfred held his ground.

Overhead the mall speaker's chimed, " _Due to weather conditions, the mall will close early today at 7pm._ "

"You're thinking of Ivan." There was bitterness in Toris' voice. His words wobbled. "Wh-why?"

"I'm not. I don't care," Alfred said.

"Prove it," Toris said and cupped both of Alfred's cheeks and then yanked him down into a chaste kiss.

Alfred tensed, freezing in place with his nose scrunched up. The man tasted like saltine crackers and cigarettes. This was not how envisioned true love's kiss was supposed to be. Where were the fireworks and the love song that played in the background? Why did the only thing he feel from this was gross and a need to push Toris off him?

Toris tried to deepen the kiss, but Alfred merely stood there trying not to gag. Suddenly, Alfred pushed him away and took in a breathe.

"I can't," Alfred said. "It's too fast."

A wave of hurt rolled through Toris' eyes. Tears glistened in them and then Toris turned and slammed the lever on the door. A blast of cold air and white flakes flowed inside as Toris ran out.

"Wait!" Alfred said, following after him as he slipped on his gloves and knit cap. Winter winds needled his face.

His foot slid on a patch of ice and he stumbled into a pile of snow. By the time Alfred recovered and regained his feet, Toris was shutting the door of the black sedan his chauffeur had driven up.

"Tory!" Alfred called, throwing out a hand, but his friend sped off. He watched him go. "Shit!"

The car went around the corner and was gone.

After a couple moments to let it sink it, Alfred put his hands in his pocket and started for home, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. The park was a twenty minute walk — probably longer in this.

"He's not still there," Alfred said. "He's not. That'd be insane."

Yet Alfred found his feet moving to the park. He had to see. That was all. One look to be sure that Ivan wasn't that crazy.

Soon he ran, heart hammering.

* * *

Out of breath when he arrived, he slumped against a tree in the park, staring at the round base of Ruya statue — a man on a horse that was reared up.

There was no Ivan. Just a snowman. One that shifted.

Puffs of white breath came out of Alfred's chapped lips as he gaped in shock. He rubbed at his eyes, wiping the snow off his glasses, as drew closer.

Lamplights had turned on, casting a sickly orange light over the figure stooped at the base, almost collapsed against it. A figure whose neck and lower face were bundled in a scarf.

"Oh my god," he breathed.

The shape sneezed — a loud, commanding one — snow sliding off his broad-shoulder and blocky head. As Alfred came closer, his foot crunched on something not snow and he lifted it up to see dead, frozen sunflowers on the ground, bundled in a blue ribbon.

"I-Ivan?" Alfred said.

The man stirred, eyelids opened, each long long lash glistened with frost. He stirred and turned his violet gaze slowly upward toward Alfred. In a weird way Ivan had become a snowman.

When Ivan stared at him stupidly, as if not believing what he saw, Alfred snapped. Rather than feel guilty, he chose anger and shouted, "You're out of your fucking mind! What the fuck are you doing out here?"

And to his surprise, a slow smile — a real smile — split Ivan's face. A sight that skipped Alfred's heart and nearly took his breathe away. The frost made him look like a frost angel, bits of ice clung to his long lashes and the cold had pinked his nose and cheeks.

Ivan threw out a shaky hand, clutching the stone base of the statue and pulled himself up, clumps of snow sliding off. For a moment Alfred watched as if only an observer in his own body as Ivan turned to him and took a tottering step forward.

"Fr-fredka…" Ivan said, reaching out as if to strangle Alfred.

Alfred tensed, knowing he should run, but held by his own morbid fascination.

"This isn't my fault. Why did y—."

"You came! ~" Ivan said happily, falling against Alfred and wrapping around him in a bone-crushing hug. "I worried something had happened to you."

"Hands off the merchandise!" Alfred cried, but he didn't have the heart to push him off. The man nuzzled an icy nose against the side of his neck. "Ivan…"

"I knew you would come." His voice sounded content.

Blushing fiercely, overwhelmed by embarrassment and guilt, Alfred grasped on his anger and tried to pry Ivan off. The man would not dislodge. Surrendering to the embrace, Alfred yelled at him anyway.

"You idiot! Get it through your thick skull! I hate you! You could've died!"

"Nyet," Ivan said, slumping against Alfred, his weight knocking him back a step. He smiled at Ivan. "Because I knew you would come."

"Like fuck you did!" Alfred struggled as Ivan hugged him tighter and nuzzled his cold nose against the crook of Alfred's neck. "I stood you up! I don't give a fuck about you!"

"You care. You came in the end."

Alfred fell silent. Strange emotions burned in his chest and he felt warm and safe in Ivan's hug. For a heartbeat he found himself wanting to sink into those arms.

With a shake of his head, Alfred said, "We haft get out of this blizzard before we both freeze our balls off!"

Ivan slumped and Alfred struggled to hold up the dead weight that finally brought them both to the ground with Alfred on top.

"Hey! Let go!" Alfred cried, flashes from the alley. He hit at Ivan until he realized the man wasn't fighting to hold on. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. "Ivan?"

Ivan lay passed out on the ground. After removing a glove, Alfred felt his forehead.

"Geez, you're burning up! What's wrong with you? Ivan? Ivan! C'mon big guy. Wake up!"

He shook him, but Ivan would not stir.

* * *

TBC in… "Blackout"

In the next chapter, everything goes dark.

* * *

 **Note —** From 10 am to almost 8pm Ivan stood out in sub-zero temperatures.


	20. Blackout

**Note:** We're over halfway to the grand finale that will be bloody, dramatic, and violent. Everything you'd expect from a Rusame.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** So many acknowledgements. Must thank everyone… must not procastinate…. here's an update in the meantime. Know that I adore your favs, likes, and comments. I've read everyone. They keep me writing faster.

* * *

 **Blackout**

* * *

"I blame you," Alfred grumbled, voice muffled by howling winds and the end of Ivan's scarf that he had wrapped around his nose and mouth. His teeth slightly chattered. "Lugging your fat ass is not how I wanted to s-s-s-spend my-y day off! I was s-s-s-supposed to be home! In my sn-snugg-g-gie!"

He dragged Ivan whose feet left trails in the snow and whose arms where secured around Alfred's shoulders. Each step felt heavier than the last and sank deeper. Since he put his knit cap on Ivan's head, his was now exposed.

So far Alfred's warm-blooded nature kept him moving.

Earlier he dug through Ivan's pockets. Instead of Ivan's phone, the first thing Alfred found was an XL condom. Due to the poor light and snow sticking to his glasses, he had held it almost to his nose before realizing what it was, then with a gasp, had dropped it in disgust. After cursing Ivan for whatever the jerk had thought would happen on their imaginary date, Alfred found the phone.

Out of power.

Left with little choice, he had picked the big guy up and begun dragging him. The streets were empty, mounds of white hid cars, a few people ran by in distant intersections, all too far for help. The buildings loomed silent and closed except for one thing: the golden arches of a McDonalds.

They glowed on the third floor of a building three intersections down, a symbol of hope and salvation. With a grin, Alfred had wiped a tear out of his eye and said, "Always there in a pinch. Those arches never let you down, 'cept on their breakfast menu."

Between his continued complaints about Ivan's fat ass, Alfred started to talk about other things. Talking kept him powered and distracted from the bone-chilling gusts that punched his face. And the fact that he couldn't feel his toes and fingertips anymore.

Ivan groaned in his ear, breath brushing his inner lobe. Alfred blushed and adjusted Ivan who pressed his forehead to Alfred's temple. Sometimes he stirred and briefly woke, then fell back asleep. Secretly, it worried Alfred.

"Don't worry, big guy," Alfred called over his shoulder, sure he couldn't be heard over the wind. "This hero will save you. I saved my brother's life once."

Ivan slumped against him.

"It's true. Mattie hates to remember," Alfred continued. "When we lived in the 'burbs, there was this pond that froze over. Kids weren't supposed to play there, but me and Mattie played hocky there anyway." The material of Ivan's scarf sheltered Alfred's mouth from flakes. "Well, one day Mattie skated onto a thin part of the ice and it cracked beneath him.

My bro froze. He's always been a crybaby. He sobbed. He refused to move. Sure he'd die. I shouted for help, but the cracks were spreading. Truth be told, I was terrified. However, I remembered what grandaddy always told me. A hero can't show fear. He's gotta stay calm in a crisis.

So I told Mattie not to cry. The hero would save me. And I began to creep out on the ice, holding out my hockey stick. He begged me to stop. I kept saying, 'You won't. I'm your hero and I'll save you'. And I did." Alfred grinned at the memory, but then a little sadness filled him. "I couldn't get close so I went with plan B. I charged out onto the ice and used all my momentum to knock Mattie to the thicker ice. It saved him, but the ice broke under me."

Alfred chuckled grimly, feeling Ivan shift against him.

"Haven't told many this story. Don't remember anything after until I woke in the hospital. The neighbors arrived in the nick of time to fish me out. I lost hearing in one ear. And my dream to join the military. Apparently, there are no half deaf GI Joes."

He gave a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess that's why I'm louder than I mean to be and why I'm not good at listening."

He wiped at his eyes as they arrived at the McDonalds.

"Guess the past don't matter much."

The glass door was stuck and he had to kick it a bit to open it. Wind and ice flowed in behind them as they entered. He shut the door basking in the warmer hallway. The heater was blowing through the vents.

"Isn't that better, big guy?" He said over his shoulders. "McD's will warm us."

Dragging Ivan to the elevator, he pressed the button and waited, watching the buttons light up as it passed each floor.

"That was a nice story, Fredka," Ivan purred in his ears.

With a gasp, he shoved Ivan off and the man tumbled to the grey-tiled floor. "You were awake! And you had me carry you!"

Ivan's face was still flushed and feverish. His purple eyes had a glazed look, but he seemed aware. "I was conserving energy," he said, staying on the floor. "And you were confiding."

There was a ping and the metal doors opened.

"Asshole," Alfred grumbled, face red. He stepped onto the elevator and held it open, watching Ivan try to stand. The man wobbled and held at the sides. "Here." He helped steady Ivan who gave a faint smile. "Doesn't mean anything. Freak."

While Alfred knew Ivan needed to check for frostbite, he could not bring himself to ask the man to strip. He kept his back to Ivan to hide his blush as the metal doors slowly shut.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he asked slyly, "How the hell could you hear me?"

"My hearing is acute," Ivan said, sliding to the floor as if he did not have the strength to stand. "Silence is deafening and unbearable. I like you noisy."

Alfred blushed harder at that. A strange euphoria passed through him. "You… you don't find my voice obnoxious?"

"Your voice is nice. It's your words that are obnoxious." Alfred frowned, wanting to punch Ivan.

Yet he felt strangely… happy.

But that feeling was short lived with the lights went out and the elevator jerked to a sudden stop that nearly knocked him over. The red emergency lights came on.

"What now?" he asked, glancing at Ivan who had been cast in the fiery red glow.

"It looks like a blackout," Ivan said. "Probably the blizzard caused this."

"Then why aren't the doors opening and letting us off? Don't they do that?" Alfred asked. "I can't be stuck in here!"

Ivan looked at him, tilting his head. "This is a very old elevator. Perhaps it simply stops when the power is cut."

A cold feeling pulsed through Alfred. "Oh…. don't tell me we're stuck in here. With you! How long?"

"Until the power returns?"

Alfred's nightmare had become realized. He tilted his head back and wailed.

His cry echoed, unheard, through empty hallways.

* * *

TBC in "Shafted".

Alfred's stuck with a feverish Ivan and may have to take drastic steps to help warm Ivan.


	21. Shafted

**Note #1** \- Thank you everyone for all your wonderful feedback. Sorry this is only a short update. I got really overwhelmed, but I should be back on track now.

* * *

Shafted

* * *

"Huh? It's not like in the movies," Alfred said, sticking his head out of the opened roof of the elevator and scanning around the darkened inside of the shaft.

He held up his mini-flashlight — something he had always carried like his pocket knife since his boy scout days — and took in its rusted exterior and black cables snaking up into the darkness.

"I see the doors!" he said happily. The elevator had stopped only a foot above them. "Help me up."

He scowled when Ivan squeezed his butt cheeks. Grabbing the sides of the opening, he pulled himself up and used his chance to stick his socked foot in Ivan's face.

"Asshole!" Alfred called once he was off Ivan and waved his middle finger at the freak. As sick as the man was, he still had the strength to lift Alfred up.

The man clearly didn't skip his work outs.

"Hmm..? Problem?" Ivan called sweetly. He still had a flushed feverish look, but seemed surprisingly together.

Alfred glared down at the man below who was bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights. He looked a devil crawled out of hell.

The metal groaned under Alfred as he moved and went to the doors.

"Be careful, Fredka, ~" Ivan called.

"Thanks, mommy," Alfred said sarcastically. "And my name is Alfred, Ivan the Ass."

The metal felt cold under his feet. He had left his shoes on the carpet of the elevator because _someone_ was paranoid about getting dirt stains on their scarf. With the heat out, it was starting to get cold.

After a moment of quiet, Ivan called up, "My name is EE-van. Pronounce it correctly."

Alfred rolled his eyes. _Lies_. The bastard was making it up.

Carefully stepping over the thick cables and on the slippery metal, he reached the metal doors and tried to pry them apart. Holding his light between his teeth, he took out his pocket knife, opened it, and tried to wedge open the door.

It was no good.

"Shit," he called, putting his knife back in his pocket and grabbing his light out of his mouth. He hit a fist on the door and the metal rang out. "Hey! Still got that creepy-ass pipe, _I_ van?"

"Sadly, I do not," Ivan said. There was a mournfulness to his voice as he said so.

"The one time I wanted him to have a pipe." Alfred ran his fingers through his air, trying to think of a plan. He brightened, slapping his fist in his palm. He always had the most amazing plans. Going back to the opening, he called down to Ivan, "Do you have any gunpowder or C-4 by chance? So I can blow the door."

For some reason Ivan only stared at him, as if _he_ were crazy.

"You can't tell me you've never been asked that before." Alfred said, squatting down.

"Do you have any donuts or hamburgers by chance? You can't tell me you've never been asked that before," Ivan replied coolly.

Alfred grunted, refusing to admit that as a matter of fact he _had_. And as a matter of fact, he did have a half-eaten donut in his inside coat pocket — saved as an emergency ration.

"Is your phone completely dead? Does it have enough juice to call for help?" Alfred asked hopefully.

Ivan shook his head sadly, slumping to the floor of the elevator. Sweat glistened on his forehead and he did not look well. A prick of guilt swam through Alfred for rousing Ivan to lift him up here.

As much as he wanted to curse at Ivan for getting them into this mess, Alfred didn't have the heart to do it while Ivan was unwell. He didn't understand why the man nearly killed himself waiting in the cold. Ivan must have very high quality fabric or was just very good at enduring the cold because he did not seem to show signs of frostbite from what Alfred could see.

Standing up next to the hatch, Alfred stared up and said, more to himself, "I wonder what John McCain would do?"

"Who?"

With a strangled cry, Alfred called, "John McCain. You know? Die Hard."

Ivan looked confused.

"That fever must have cooked your brain. Have you been living in a cave?" Alfred said, waving his arms dramatically. "How could you forget the greatest Christmas movie evah?"

"Christmas movie?" Ivan frowned. "Are you s—."

"It's Christmas movie! It takes place on Christmas. Therefore, a Christmas movie!" Alfred interrupted. "Anyhow, you're distracting me. I'm making a brilliant escape plan. Just wait down there. Keep your evil aura there."

Ivan stared at him with that strange curious expression.

"I mean it! No peeking up here. I'm gonna be in the midst of a brilliant plan. Under no circumstances come up here!" Alfred called backing out of sight of the hatch toward a corner of the elevator roof.

He paused, staring down into the darkness below. He couldn't see the bottom. Unable to wait any longer, he unzipped his fly and let Florida — coz he nicknamed everything — out in the nippy air. He had needed to pee for the past hour.

"Ah, yeah," he said, relief flooding him as he urinated off the side. "That feels good. I needed relief."

"Is that why you wanted privacy?" Ivan asked from behind.

Startled, Alfred whipped around to see Ivan had somehow gotten his head above the edge of the hatch and watched him, head tilted. Flushing and realized he had turned around and exposed Florida to Ivan, he jumped back.

A bad choice as he lost his balance, his arms pinwheeling and fell over the edge with a cry.

This was not how the hero dies.

* * *

 **TBC** in … "Fall For Me"

* * *

 **Note —** Sorry, I didn't get to the stopping point I wanted. I've been really busy. I hope this little update will tide fans over in the meantime. This is a structured story and has been from the beginning.

So we're approaching the next big drama marker (the first two were - Ivan being punched and Alfred finding Ivan in the snow). Each is meant to escalate things. There is a big one coming that I hope will have the intended affect on readers.

It's always terrible when you want to be at a certain place in a story but aren't there now. :/

Thank you for the pms. It's pretty much over now so I should be back on schedule and able to catch up on some things (finally).


	22. Fall For Me

**Fall For Me**

* * *

A hero isn't supposed to die smashed against the floor of an elevator shaft. That's a death for villains and henchmen. Everyone knows that.

Somehow as Alfred dangled by one arm from the side of the elevator, clutching the thick, black cable he had caught by luck and instinct in his fall, he didn't actually belief he would die. It didn't seem real. Possible. His mind could not grip the idea that this could be the end.

As his grip slipped, it jolted him into panic. Images flew through his mind of his family, dressed in black, weeping over his closed coffin — closed because his body had been too shattered for an open — and hundreds, no thousands, of his admirers sobbing as they mourned him. Of his tombstone that read 'Here lies the young man that would have been the world's greatest hero had he lived: Alfred F. Jones'.

And he realized: _I don't want to die_.

"I-Ivan!" The name burst from his throat, shrill in his own ears.

Somehow, distantly, his mind was aware of his pants and underwear slipping to his ankles and his dong hanging free in the drafty air.

 _No, no, no!_

He slid further, on the verge of losing his grip entirely.

"Ivan! Please!" The plea slid from his lips. Alfred was hardly aware of what he said.

There was a _thud-thud-thud_ sound of someone crawling fast over the metal roof and then, to his relief, Ivan's large, roundish face appeared, wearing an expression that Alfred had never seen before, one not easily identified. Terror? Panic? Concern? All of them at the same time?

"Alfred!" Ivan called, one warm hand shooting forward to latch around Alfred's wrists. "I have you!"

Alfred could barely think, stunned by hearing his actual name from Ivan and the raw emotion in the man's voice. Was he afraid?

Ivan pulled hard, planting his feet against the side to push backwards, lifting Alfred up. Alfred cried out in pain, sure his shoulder would dislocate, it had nearly done so in the fall. His socked feet slipped against the metal as they ran against the cold metal, searching for a foot hold. It was as if he ran on a tread mill set on full power.

He reached with his other hand and grabbed Ivan's wrist. It had to be painful for Ivan, strong as he was, Alfred was not a light man. Slowly, inch by inch, Alfred went upward.

Sweat dripped off Ivan's large nose and his teeth clenched from the exertion. With a final burst of energy, Ivan dragged Alfred up so hard, it sent him flying backwards and Alfred toppled on top of him.

For a moment, neither moved or said a word. They lay there, Alfred sprawled on top of Ivan, both panting and exhausted. Although the shadows now hid Ivan's expression, Alfred could feel those violet eyes fixed on him.

And the reality sunk in: Ivan had saved him.

His nemesis had saved him.

He should be miserable about this, but, at least for now, Alfred was happy to be alive.

His heart sped up from more than adrenaline as he realized their position and how close Ivan's lips were. He could feel the rise and fall of the man's chest underneath him.

A blush exploded over Alfred has realized Florida was currently pressed against Ivan's inner thigh. Just as he started to scramble off, Ivan's thick arms snaked around his waist and held him there.

"Hey…" he said weakly, pulled closer. "Stop…" His words were weak and lacking in energy.

Ivan nuzzled the crook of his neck, holding him as if Alfred would disappear if he didn't, and whispered, "I almost lost you."

And Alfred let Ivan hold him for that instant. It was only when he remembered Ivan's heat was from his fever, that he pushed away.

"I'm not your toy," Alfred breathed.

At first, Ivan wouldn't let go, but when Alfred hit hard enough he released him. Ivan slumped and seemed worn out.

Scrambling away, mouth dry, Alfred quickly yanked up his pants and underwear, grateful they had not slipped off in his fall. After buckling up his pants, and hoping the slightly excited Florida would calm down, he crawled back to Ivan and felt his forehead.

It was so hot, he thought he could cook an egg.

Although he wanted to yell at the man, thank him, call him names, kiss him, hit him, all Alfred said was, "Let's get you back down."

* * *

After Ivan flopped tot he floor, Alfred hopped down, careful not to land on Ivan. The man could barely stand. He had used everything climbing up and saving Alfred.

"What do I do?" Alfred wondered allowed, carding fingers through his sweaty hair. It was getting cold in here with the heat out. Their body temperates kept it somewhat warm, but not enough.

He had no medicine.

"You're an idiot," Alfred mumbled, not sure if he meant Ivan or himself.

He searched through Ivan's pocket and found the man's bill fold — a designer item of plain brown — and scowled when he found another condom tucked into it. Extra Large.

Did Ivan get around or something? Or did he think his date with Alfred would go that well?

Digging into his pockets, Alfred pulled out his smushed protein bar and half-eaten donut and fed them slowly to Ivan who needed energy. Even in his fevered state, Ivan pulled at face at their taste. One that showed both disgust at the flavor and smugness at Alfred feeding him.

Finally, with a put-out sigh, Alfred leaned over Ivan and began to undress the man. He hated what he was about to do already.

After he stripped Ivan down to his underwear, Alfred started on himself. Ivan needed to be kept warm. When they were both bare-chested and bundled together in their own clothes like a taco, Alfred found he rather found the contours of Ivan's muscular figure comfortable.

Unfortunately, Ivan's hands had a nasty habit of slipped around Alfred. Throughout the night, it became a constant struggle as Ivan insisted on hugging Alfred close like some teddy bear and Alfred kept trying to pull him off.

The man was like a boa constrictor mixed with a fox. Yet, Alfred noticed, his sleeping face was cute and he went red when he wondered what kissing Ivan would be like.

He rolled on his side to keep his eyes away from Ivan and squirmed as blood rushed to Florida. He did not need a hard-on right now. The man was ill.

Thinking of tea, he managed to calm himself down enough to fall asleep.

In lieu of "good night", Alfred muttered, "This is all your fault".

* * *

The click of a photo being taken woke Alfred who groaned and rubbed at his eyes. There was light.

For a moment, he was confused. Where was his awesome bedroom? What was that musty smell of sweat and body odor.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he lay on the floor of an elevator, one whose doors were now open. Fluorescent light from the hallway ceiling shined in and two workers in grey jumpsuits, one male and female, stared down at him.

It was the female one who held her phone up and took another picture.

He frowned, becoming terribly aware of how he was being held. Ivan groaned next to him and drew him closer, spooning against him. Turning slowly to his side, as if in the slow-motion of a horror movie, all the events of last night flooded back.

"God, no! Get off, asshole!" He cried, brutally shoved Ivan away. The man continued to grab at him as Alfred scrambled out and hard into the elevator wall so hard he banged his head.

"This is too good," the girl with black hair tied in two buns on either side of her face said. She had a heart-shaped face and asian features.

"Ay, mate," the darker haired man said, he had an Australian accent.

Ivan's eyes fluttered open and he took on a sour expression. His face had returned to his normal paleness and he no longer looked fevered.

"Hmm…" Ivan muttered, hair mussed from sleeping.

Another photo clicks and Alfred stood up and yelled at the girl, "Would you stop that!"

"There are better places if you want to do that kind of thing," she said, smirking at Alfred, eyes going up and down.

He went crimson, hands bawling into fists. "Delete those photos! We were clearly using each other's bodies for warmth!"

"Uh-huh," she said, exchanging a wink with the Australian guy. "And some friction as well."

Alfred felt ready to explode. It didn't help how pleased Ivan looked.

"Show me those photos," Ivan said to the girl, lifting himself up. His sweet smile wiped the smug look off her face as she stepped back.

Alfred went red, trying not to notice how good Ivan looked in only his underwear. He tried not to remember that he had peeked at more than he should — it was only fair since Ivan saw Florida in all its glory — and realized how well endowed Ivan was.

What happened next was a scramble of Alfred tried to get his clothes on as fast as possible and get the phone from the girl before Ivan.

* * *

 **TBC…** now that they've slept together, Ivan decides they should take their relationship to the next level in "Surprise Attack". His next move will render Alfred speechless.

* * *

 **Note # 1** — Thank you all for all the support on this. I will have to catch up on acknowledgements and so many to thank! Stay tuned.


	23. Surprise Attack!

Thank you everyone! I hope you enjoy this next update!

* * *

 **Surprise Attack!**

* * *

Stumbling onto the sidewalk, Alfred was still in the midst of a rant when Ivan stopped suddenly in front of him and he collided into Ivan's wide back.

"Ow, my nose!" He whined, holding it. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Ivan turned suddenly and Alfred nearly stepped back, worried at the intense way Ivan's eyes studied him, like a wolf inspecting his prey. He steeled himself, squaring his shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

Using one forefinger to pull down his scarf, Ivan revealed his disturbingly sweet smile. "Fredka ~" he began, "Now that we have slept together."

Alfred froze. A couple passing by threw wide-eyed glances at them. Cupping a hand over around his mouth, Alfred called, "He's exaggerating! We just shared warmth."

"Naked ~"

"Shut up, Ivan! We were in our underwear!" Alfred slapped a hand to his face, realizing how stupid that sounded. The couple had already run off. Beat-red, Alfred round on Ivan. He ground his teeth. "Thanks, asshole!"

"You're welcome ~"

If looks could kill, Alfred was murdering Ivan with his glare. Despite his anger, Alfred could not help noticing how the morning light lit the top of Ivan's head and sparkled in the melting snow around him, snow glittering gold as it slowly turned to slush. Cars crept by all around. Life was returning to the city.

"Our date was fun ~." Ivan said sweetly.

Alfred nearly lost his footing. His right foot slipped into an ice-cold puddle, dampening his sneaker. A shadow fell over him in that span of time he was distraction. By instinct he dodged Ivan's impending _hug_ and whirled outward, fist pulled back.

"What the fuck!"

Ivan's arms fell to his sides, shoulders slumping in disappointment that Alfred had escaped his _attack_.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Alfred warned, jabbing a finger in Ivan's direction.

"Let's cuddle now that w—."

"Not another word!" Alfred interrupted. "You and I will never cuddle. We do not cuddle. And what the fuck was fun about yesterday?"

"You," Ivan answered. "Any moment with you is delightful."

Alfred's brain shut down, scanning Ivan's word for sarcasm. A blush crept up to his ears and he quickly faced the road, to hide his glowing face. He should say something, insult Ivan, and laugh in his face. Yet nothing would come out.

Ivan had silenced Alfred.

Alfred ran fingers through his hair. His mouth opened and closed. Ivan had caused him nothing but trouble. His parents and Matthew had to be out of their minds with worry.

"Admit you love me and you're life will be easier," Ivan said.

Just before Alfred could reply, a sleek, black limo pulled up beside him and he had to jump back to dodge the slush it kicked up at him. The driver's door opened and a distraught Germania climbed out, he wore a cap with a shiny black brim and a black trench coat.

"Master Braginski! Are you well?" he asked, rushing around. "I had to inform the emergency services. I could not contact you and your GPS didn't work."

"I deactivated that," Ivan said. "I wanted privacy."

"I have failed you," Germania said, lowering his head. "I'll tenure my resignation immediately."

"Nyet, I'll never accept it," Ivan said, placing a hand on Germania's shoulder. "You did your job perfectly and I'll make sure mother knows that."

Germania looked up in surprised and nodded.

"Wait… wait," Alfred said, interrupting their moment. "When did you get in touch? Did your phone work this whole time?"

Alfred lifted his hand, ready to beat the shit out of Ivan.

"Nyet," Ivan said.

"Stop with the Russian. It's 'no' or 'nah'! How did you call him?"

"I used that girl's phone," Ivan said, as if speaking to an idiot.

Alfred frowned. "When did you… how…"

His mind scrambled to figure out how Ivan disappeared from his attention long enough to do that. They had their embarrassing fight over the girl's phone, that ended when the Australian started photographing the way they were grappled together.

"You are easily distracted," Ivan said. "And her photos were lovely."

"I deleted them!"

"Not before I got them," Ivan said.

Germania glanced in confusion, yet seemed to decide he didn't want to know. He head opened one of the side doors for Ivan to enter.

"Do you need me to call your doctor?" Germania asked, clearing his throat.

"He need to be committed," Alfred said, pointing to his left as he stared at Germania. "He's batshit crazy!"

A hand clamped over the wrist of the hand pointing at Alfred and, before his mind could process things, he was yanked hard into Ivan's embrace and spun around. Suddenly, lips were on Alfred's. At first he fought until a hand cradled the back of his head and he was tipped backward.

The kiss deepened and sent warm tingles rocketing through his body. He flushed. In Alfred's head, fireworks exploded. Every part of his body seemed to feel the kiss that went to his toes.

This was like no kiss he had ever experienced before. It was the Hollywood kiss.

His eyes stared into Ivan's half-lidded one and he started to give in when it stopped. Ivan returned a breathless Alfred to his feet and touched his cheek. In that smug voice, Ivan leaned close and said, "See? You have fallen for me."

Then Ivan was gone. The limo door closed and they were speeding off.

Alfred lifted his fingers to his chapped lips, touching where he still tasted Ivan. Slowly, his mind realized what had happened. His body trembled.

"That…" he whispered. "That son of a bitch!"

A couple glanced in shock as he shook his fist in the direction Ivan had gone.

"You're gonna get it now, asshole! Nobody surprise attacks me and gets away with it!" Alfred yelled.

Even worse, Ivan didn't offer a ride? Not that Alfred would have accepted, but still…

When he had calmed enough, he stuffed his hands in his pocket and hurried home, muttering to himself, "It meant nothing."

To comfort himself, he plotted his own brilliant counter-attack to Ivan, one that would make the bastard sorry he had ever _attacked_ Alfred in public like that.

Oh, he's gonna get it, Alfred steamed.

 _He fucking kissed me!_

By the time Alfred reached home he was boiling mad. So much, he was ready for whatever scolding awaited him. He would never admit to his night with Ivan, even if it meant being grounded for the rest of his life.

If they asked, " _Where have you been?_ "

He'd give a plausible, reasonable answer like "abducted by aliens" or "an old wizard sucked me into a portal because I was the foretold hero of his world destined to defeat the darkness".

Sounded logical to him. Those things happened. He had read lots of websites that had proved Big Foot's existence.

He stopped at the door, touching his lips again. No matter how much he rubbed at them, they still tingled with Ivan's lingering kiss.

The hero couldn't fall for the villain.

That would ruin the story.

After all, Ivan had sins to answer for.

* * *

 **TBC** in… **"Fallout of the Stolen Kiss"**

A surprise is waiting at home. And what of Toris? All is forgiven right?


	24. Falllout Of The Stolen Kiss

**Fallout Of The Stolen Kiss**

* * *

Instead of the tearful scolding that Alfred expected, what he got was Tino sliding out the door and blocking Alfred from entry with a nervous look. He had clearly heard Alfred coming up the stairs.

"A-Al. You're home," Tino said, gaze flicking down at the doorknob. He grabbed it to prevent Alfred from opening the door.

"Dad?" Alfred stared in confusion. Stupidly, he asked, "Aren't you angry?"

Last time he stayed out all night without calling home, Tino and Berwald had grounded him for three months and banned him from hamburgers and McDs. It was horrifying.

"About what?" Tino said sheepishly; smile strained. "Oh, oh right! Your boyfriend called and explained everything."

"Boyfriend?" Alfred gasped, backing into the plaster wall of the other side of the hallway. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Braginiski! He called and explained everything!" Tino said.

"Everything?" Alfred gulped hard.

"Yes, how you rushed him to the hospital and stayed the night." Tino clasped his hands together.

"Uh… yeah…that's what happened," Alfred said nervously.

There was a loud crash and sounds of Berwald cursing.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Tino said peevishly.

Alfred folding his arms together, tapping a toe. "What's going on?"

"Well… erm… they finished delivering it all thirty minutes before you arrived. Apparently, your friend was very _grateful_ …"

"What did he do?" Alfred said, pushing Tino lightly aside and opening the door. It opened less than a foot and banged into something. "What the… hell?"

"It's really sweet of him," Tino said.

Furniture was stuffed so thickly in every part of the house, that Alfred could not see the kitchen. There was a table blocking the door from fully opening and a cabinet and dresser drawers. All looked like fine craftsmanship.

"How are we supposed to live in this?"

"The real problem is that Berwald… you know how he loves fine crafted-wood furniture," Tino said, rubbing the back of his head. "I hate to send it back. Berwald keeps admiring it all."

Alfred slapped a palm to his forehead. "This is insane. How do I even get in?"

"Suck in. Like this!" Tino said, pulling his gut as as inched through the narrow gap in the doorway and managed to slip into a tiny space between the rosewood table and cabinet.

"I'm gonna kill him," Alfred grumbled, inhaling hard and wiggling his way through, the knob sliding along his back. "Where's Mattie?"

"Over here!" gasped a weak voice.

"Where?" Tino and Alfred glanced about.

"Here!" Alfred opened a drawer in the table. "You idiot! Here! Between the fridge and this wardrobe!"

"Why are you there?" Alfred asked.

"I got stuck. I wanted milk for… pancake batter." Matthew called.

"Oh, is that where you went?" Tino said.

"That's it! We have to send this back!" Alfred said. "There's no room!"

"Help me…" Matthew squeaked.

"All right, mission one: rescue brother. Mission two: get my phone. It's only…" he stared through the labyrinth of furniture. "…in my room. _Shit_."

* * *

In the midst of enjoying a lovely bubble bath, Ivan received a call from his boyfriend who greeted him with jubilant cries of, "Where are you? I'm gonna beat your ass, you son of a bitch! What the hell were you thinking? We can fit this shit in here! When I find you, I'm gonna rip out your eyeballs and make you eat them!"

"Aw, I love you too," Ivan replied, splashing his feet.

"Would stop kidding around! My brother nearly got sucked into Narnia by that stupid wardrobe of yours! I swear! We can't live in… in all this fancy furniture! Get rid of it!"

"How 'bout you thank me over dinner?" Ivan said. "I'll have Germania pick you up ~!"

There was a pause and then Alfred exploded, "Are you listening, you as—."

Ivan hung up and then turned off his phone. He sank back into the bathe. It was always lovely hearing from Alfred.

"That went well," he cooed.

* * *

Slamming the door, Alfred shouted over his shoulder to his family, "Have a homicide to commit. Be right, back!"

Now that he had retrieved the phone and freed his brother, Alfred was on a mission: beat some sense into Ivan. Hands balled into fists, he stormed down the stairs.

Ivan wanted dinner! Well, he'd be enjoying a knuckle-sandwich!

Alfred paused halfway down to give Toris another ring, but it went straight to dial tone. He frowned, a little concerned. School had been cancelled today due to yesterday's blizzard.

 _Tomorrow, I'll talk to Toris and make it up to him_ , he thought.

He was sure everything would be all right.

* * *

A sick, crusty-yellow sunlight creeped through gaps in the drawn shades. Barely enough to do more than make the deep shadows in the office seem starker.

A large, throne-like chair had its back to the window and held a man who sat stiffly inside it, his wooden cane with a carved wolverine's head resting against the left armrest.

A dull, bulb flickered overhead, vomiting its urine-yellow glow on the man and the surface of the dark-oak desk in front of him. On this desk was opened a strange manilla file folder, one he wrote inside in neat and precise penmanship.

His other hand cracked his knuckles, thumb curling over each slender finger, following an order: middle, ring, little, and lastly the forefinger.

Cigarette smoke lingered in the air, surprising since anyone who knew his age knew he was too young to buy them; then again, anyone who knew him, knew he had his _ways_.

Cradled to his ear by his shoulder, he listened intently to the speaker of his flip phone, giving occasional sounds of listening such as "uh-huh" and "I see".

He only paused in his knuckle-cracking to push his thick, square-framed glasses back up the slender bridge of his nose. They widened his blue eyes, so dark a shade as nearly black, and gave them a watery look. His dark blonde fringe hid them in shadow.

"Yes, I understand," he said, going back to his cracking. Everything had an order, a count, an arrangement, a precise design to him. _A purpose_. "No, that is troubling. You are right to be upset. I told you this would happen. People refuse to recognize the truth. No one believes in the existence of pure evil."

Whatever answer he heard caused him to roll his eyes and grimace. As he went back to listening, he idly dusted off the front of his dark blue suit, one that fit snugly to his broad, muscular frame. Few would recognize he had ever been lanky or _weak._

Then again, few had ever noticed him before.

Once upon a time he had been a model student, a mild child who carried himself well, and kept focused, cool, and logical at all times. He had been a prodigy at both the piano and math, one careful not to stand out.

Those days were over. _These_ hands would never glide across the piano as they once did.

"You know how this will end," he said harshly, sitting forward. He dropped the pen onto the paperwork. "Don't you see? It's better this way. That idiot was never going to see the light. _This_ is an opportunity."

He scowled.

"I have promised you it won't go that far. This our chance. We do things _my_ way now."

He waited, breath held and posture tense. A slow smile — one without mirth — spread across his thin lips. It never reached up his narrow face.

"I knew you'd see the light. We begin immediately."

Then he hung up and set the phone in his top drawer before leaning back in his seat. Threading his fingers together, he rested them on his stomach.

He looked at his door when he heard a knock on it.

"Come in," he called straightening himself.

His secretary, a grey-haired woman in her fifties, shuffled in carrying a silver tray with a porcelain pot and steaming cup of coffee. He could smell the brew from here.

"Ah, Mrs. Gibbons," he said.

"You're father called again," she said, keeping her dark brown eyes off him, trying to strike an innocent tone. "He wanted to know —."

"Unless it's business, I've nothing to say to him or mother," the man interrupted. "You may set the coffee down and leave."

"But…"

"No," he interrupted. "They settled. They gave into fear and greed. I've nothing further to say to them."

She pursed her rosebud lips, chapped and wrinkled with age.

After placing the tray down, she started to turn when he said, "Wait," he closed the manilla file and handed it to her, "send this to Human Resources. Tell them to hire this person, whatever it takes."

She blinked at him owlishly. "A-all right. Is that everything, Mr. _Von Bock?_ "

"For now," he said.

And when she had left, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a photo of Ivan Braginski, one that had been slashed and stabbed many times.

Contrary to what most people believed, Eduard believed in God. He thought faith had logic to it. After all, without faith he would not have pulled through his "accident".

Without faith that God had chosen him to be his Angel of Death, Eduard might have lost his mind.

Evil was a cancer to be extinguished. It radiated from Ivan and everyone he influenced.

Every stitch, every broken bone, every minute of agony, Ivan would answer for all of it. For all his sins.

"It's not nice to pick on others, _Ivan_ ," Eduard said, twisting the name into a sneer.

He stabbed the tip of the pen between Ivan's eyes.

* * *

 **TBC** in… " **Sinister Signs** "

Eduard Von Bock is alive and bloodthirsty for vengeance. What terrible scheme is he planning? And how does this involve Alfred?

* * *

 **Note #1 —**

At long last the true antagonist reveals himself. The cold, calculating puppet master playing in the shadows is the once, mild-mannered Eduard.

But what really happened that day between him and Ivan?

The plot starts to unravel as Eduard's fate is revealed and Ivan will soon reckon with the _demon_ he created.

* * *

 **Note # 2 —** Did you catch the references to Estonia's character in Hetalia?

That last line comes from the TV series.

* * *

 **Note # 3 —** Aaaaand I need to catch up on 8 chapters of acknowledgements. You might think I won't, but ah-hah! I will next chapter. Thank you everyone! I hope you'll enjoy this next plot twist as it propels us to the finale!

If you've read the manga, you might be able to guess what's coming. It is altered for drama, but following that same idea.


	25. Pawns

**Acknowledgements —** Are almost finished. Next chap for sho!

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** This chapter got expanded so I changed the title and moved some things around.

* * *

 ** _Pawns_**

* * *

"Ivan!" Alfred roared, throwing open the double doors. "You…" He never finished.

"Oh, Sunflower. You made it," Ivan said cheerily, rest his _ax_ on his muscular shoulder.

He grabbed a towel off a nearby coffee table and began to pat himself down. His broad chest faced Alfred, pecks exposed. The muscles rippled on Ivan's torso.

Alfred's lips went dry. A wave of heat rushed from his face to his groin.

Ivan stood _shirtless_ , jeans snug to his sides and dangerously low, in his living room on a blue plastic tarp. A sheen of sweat clung to him, every bead highlighted by the afternoon sun shining through the windows on the left side of the room. A large fireplace crackled with flames behind him and there were a growing pile of faggots to either side.

When Alfred could speak, he stammered, "Why… why… are you chopping wood in your living room?"

It was absurd.

"You don't?" Ivan said innocently with that childish smile, made all the more sinister by the ax.

An image of that scene from The Shining where Jack Torrance hacks his way into the bathroom flashed in Alfred's mind.

"No one does that! I swear you just wanted to…" it hit Alfred. "You just wanted me to see you without a shirt!"

Ivan chuckled and waved for Alfred to follow him. He noticed scars on Ivan's nape and back, but could not see them well from this distance.

"Let us have dinner!"

"Admit it!" Alfred said. "This was staged, you cunning bastard!"

Alfred found himself following Ivan who ignored his demands of "Put a shirt on," along with demands of "Get the furniture out of my parents' apartment!"

* * *

"This is like the set out of a horror movie," Alfred said, gaping around at the darkly-furbished dining room. They sat on opposite ends of an oak dining table with a centerpiece of sunflowers in a white, porcelain pot.

"Ah, you saw that American comedy?" Ivan had his scarf and a dark grey shirt on.

Alfred frowned. "Wait… was this. Oh God, this is where they filmed _The Haunting of the Mochis_! That movie gave me nightmares for weeks! I mean… it gave Mattie nightmares for weeks!"

"I was on summer holiday and they asked to film here. They said my home was an ideal place for evil murdering spirits from Hell. I was touched. No one had ever said something so sweet to me before ~" Ivan said cheerfully.

Alfred's fork clattered to the plate. "Oh God."

"And there were a few others. One comedy that involved a chainsaw and a meat-grinder," Ivan tilted his head in thought, tapping his lower lip. "The comedian had steel teeth and green hair."

" _House Of Clowns 3!_ " Alfred's voice went high-pitched. He put his face in his palms and moaned. "I'm in an actual horror house! I knew I'd seen some of these rooms!"

"Oh, and this house has a rich history! When I was on holiday in Europe, some ghosthunters came to see our basement. Something about a dismembered couple fifty years ago."

"That was this place!" Alfred gasped. "Your home was where the McDougal massacre of '31 took place! You live in a haunted mansion!"

"The dark aura of pain and suffering lend it a lovely charm, don't you agree ~ ?"

Alfred groaned, staring between his fingers at Ivan. "Are you an ax murderer? Be honest."

Ivan chuckled. Before he answered, the doors opened and trays of hamburgers of every sort were wheeled in along with stacks of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

Alfred gasped, going from horror to delight.

"Are you feeding an army?"

"Probably. You're here."

Alfred scowled at Ivan, but couldn't stay angry when a plate of cheese burgers was set in front of him.

"I'm gonna have to work off so many calories later," he lamented. "Just a couple. That's all."

"I know a very vigorous form of exercise! It involves friction ~!" Ivan said, laughing in a strange _kol-kol-kol_ kind of way.

"No," Alfred growled, chomping into a burger.

* * *

"Since we've slept together—." Ivan frowned when Alfred sprayed his coffee across the table. While Alfred thumped his chest, still choking on what he had been drinking, Ivan continued, "How about you spend the night here?"

When Alfred could breathe properly again, he stared at Ivan with his best 'Are you shitting me?' expression. Ivan smiled back.

"Not in a million years," Alfred said, grabbing a second slice of chocolate cake from the dessert tray. Although he had eaten more than he should have, there was always room for dessert.

"Are you sure?" Ivan asked, sliding his knife into his steak and taking a piece. He chewed on _slowly_ and licked his fingers and lips. He growled in his throat. Ivan even licked the knife clean.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow.

"Tell me this food isn't made of people. I'm going to be very disappointed if you're Hannibal Lector," Alfred said flatly.

"I want to…" Ivan purred in a husky voice. "tear into you."

The cake on Alfred's fork slipped off and splatted on his plate. "Tell me there's medication for you."

Ivan next plucked off a cherry from his plate and pushed into his mouth, rolling it around. Alfred was about to laugh when Ivan bit down and again made that _seductive_ moan.

"Oookaaaay," Alfred said. "If you're trying for sexy, you're…"

That was when Ivan picked up a hamburger and bent down, eyes fixed on Alfred as he tore into it. Alfred tensed, needing to zip open his jacket. It felt warm.

Watching Ivan devour a hamburger tapped into Alfred's secret food fetish.

 _That devil! How did he know of my hamburger fetish!_

Alfred cross his legs and focused on not being aroused.

He failed.

* * *

After splashing some water on his face to cool down, Alfred returned to the hall and saw no sign of Germania. "Well, I'll just find my way back," he declared.

He had excused himself and bolted for the nearest restroom to escape Ivan's "performance".

Ten minutes later he found himself in a very different part of the house. Although it was clearly not where he should be, he saw a partly-cracked doorway, one that creaked and moved as if a breeze pushed again it.

"Hello?" he called inside. He winced when his little push on the door knocked something over.

He stuck his head in and gaped — or _fanboyed_ — at what appeared to be a room devoted to _chess_.

"Oh… oh…" he breathed, pushing the door open fully. He clutched at his heart.

This had to be a temple to chess!

A multitude of framed pictures and newspaper clippings hung on one wall. The other wall had three trophy cases, filled with different prizes from gleaning crystal trophies to golden ones. In the center was a small square table with two cushioned chairs on opposites sides. It had a chess timer and a marble board of carved pieces.

The late evening light cast deep shadows. An open window on the opposite wall allowed in a breeze that tossed the white, gossamer curtain out, letting it flutter and almost touch the back of one of the chairs.

He clicked on the light switch and the room lit up.

Beside the door was a long book case of chess books, most were in Russian, but he saw several in English.

"Just a peek," he said, plopping down and pulling out a few books.

* * *

His shadow had shifted on the floor when he heard voices in the hall.

"Crap," Alfred said, shoving the book on and shooting to his feet.

Just before he left, his eye caught on one of the trophies and he came closer to the trophy case, pausing only to admire his handsome reflection.

He stared closer to see Ivan Braginski's name etched into the gold plate of a trophy that read: United State Junior Chess Champion Grand Prize Winner.

And next to it was an autographed photo of Ivan posing next to Garry Karsparov who wrote in English "To my favorite pupil."

"Holy shit," Alfred breathed. "Pupil?"

"Da," a voice breathed in his ear.

His eyes caught on Ivan's reflection right behind him just as the Russian snaked his arms around Alfred's waist and pulled them together.

"I missed you," Ivan purred in his ear. "Why are you snooping?"

In the midst of struggling to get free, Alfred paused and twisted around to glare at Ivan. "I wasn't snooping. I was… I was looking!"

"Admiring my trophies?"

"Did you really win all this? Or did you buy your awards?" Alfred almost fell into the glass case when Ivan suddenly let go.

"I _won_ every one of these," Ivan said coldly. There was resentment in his tone.

"You can't be that good," Alfred said, patting himself off. "Only I'm that good."

"I didn't see your trophy collection."

"Oh, fuck you." Alfred flashed him the finger. "My parents couldn't drive me around to fancy tournaments and pay the fees. I had to play at parks and at YMCAs. But I can play. I bet I can kick your ass."

Ivan chuckled.

"Your arrogance is amusing. You can never defeat me in chess," Ivan said.

"I can make you eat those trophies for breakfast," Alfred said.

"You can try," Ivan challenged. "But when you lose, what's my reward?"

"What do you want?"

"To h—."

"Not that!" Alfred interrupted, blushing red.

"To have you become my boyfriend for a year."

"No way!" Alfred said. "A day."

"Three months."

"A week."

"A month."

"Two weeks.

"A month."

"Three weeks."

"A month."

"Fiiine." Alfred threw up his hands.

"Done," Ivan said and waved a hand toward the chess board.

"Nu-uh-uh!" Alfred said, waggling his forefinger. He jerked a thumb at his chest. "What's my reward?"

"What do you want?"

Alfred paused, frowning.

What did he want?

"A favor," Alfred said.

"What kind of favor?"

"I'm not sure, but it won't be something you can't do. And you have to do it should I ever ask," Alfred said. "What's the matter? Scared you'll lose?"

Ivan narrowed his eyes to his slits.

"When you are mine, I expect certain boyfriend things. Handholding, skinship, kissing, and such things are on the table," Ivan said.

"We'll see," Alfred said and he went to take a seat. He frowned. "Why are you the white?"

"Because me being the black would be… as they say _cliche_."

"Fine. Don't cry when I cream you."

"Don't worry I'll hold you close when you are bawling."

And Alfred grabbed his pawn and slammed it into D4.

It was time to Stonewall this bastard.

* * *

In the beginning Ivan taunted Alfred and didn't play him seriously. He laughed at his moves. He answered Alfred's Stonewall Formation by taking the Dutch Defense.

When Alfred sacrificed his Queen, Ivan called him an amateur and that he played chess "with the photography skill of a blind man". One by one, Alfred lost his bishops and one of his knights.

The sun had almost set by then. Their food had been moved in by tray and Alfred continued to play between sips through the straw of his cola and bites of his hamburger.

It was only when Alfred moved his remaining knight and said, "Check" that Ivan went silent.

A subtle widening took place in Ivan's eyes as he started to _see_ past the chaos of Alfred's moves, past the "clusmy" veil, and to the real goal. His gaze flickered across the board.

The only sound became the ticking of the chess timer and Ivan had yet to make a move. Sweat beaded on Ivan's forehead. He had fallen into a trap.

"You…" Ivan said. "How…?"

"It's three moves to mate," Alfred said. "You see it?"

"Impossible," Ivan sneered.

"A guy like you focuses on the big things: queens, rooks, bishops," Alfred said. "You forgot about the pawns. Those little guys can take down even a king. _You lose._ "

Alfred flinched when Ivan swatted the white king off the board and it flew across the room and cracked against the hardwood.

"I underestimated you," Ivan said, voice thick with shock and anger. He looked visible shaken, his hands trembled. He stood up, pushing his chair out.

"No shit, sherlock," Alfred said. "You lost."

"You got lucky. I'll have Germania drive you home," Ivan snapped. He turned around sharply and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard it broke the latch.

"Talk about sore loser," Alfred muttered.

All his trouble with Ivan and all he had to do was whoop him at chess.

Alfred was not looking forward to school tomorrow.

Before he left, he bent down and picked up the white king, now broken in two.

"Poor guy," he said, and tucked the pieces away in his pocket, unable to see him sent to the trash bin. It would be a reminder of his glorious victory.

* * *

 **TBC** in… " **Exposed** "

Horror waits Alfred at school in the form of a gigantic, blown-up photo of something he didn't want anyone to see.

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** Whoops! This chapter got longer than it was meant to be. Ah, I'm kinda a chess nerd. Those Stonewall Formation and the Dutch Defense are chess terms. Garry Karaspov is a really famous grandmaster.

The game I referenced for Alfred's victory was I believe played around the 1930s. It's based on one of the most daring sacrifices in Chess history. It involves sacrificing your big pieces while you secretly position your pawns in a certain way and lead the opposing team's king to a proper position.

If you play it right and they don't see it (it's actually really hard to predict because it involves using your own king) the pawns will have the king boxed in.

It helped that Ivan didn't take Alfred seriously and made some critical mistakes.

In my mind Alfred is a tough chess player because he is hard to predict. His moves don't make sense to his opponents. His critical weakness would be he pushes too strongly and isn't patient enough.

When Ivan is in the zone, his strength is his unending patience and his love of "torturing" his opponents. When playing at his full strength, a game with Ivan is a "mind##ck". It's death by a thousand paper cuts.

However, his sadistic side is his weakness, as is his inability to deal with spontaneity and nonsensical moves.

They compliment each other perfectly. Alfred's strength is what Ivan is weak at and Ivan is strong at what Alfred is weak at.


	26. Exposed

**Exposed**

* * *

"If it isn't our little Alfie!" said the trio of snobby girls who had ignored Alfred his first day here. That was the first sign of trouble.

Tony's tires squealed when Alfred braked. Stilettos clicking on the asphalt, the girls head for him. Turning Tony around, he pedaled off as fast he could, ignoring their fading cries of "Alfie ~ waaaaiiit."

* * *

He peeked around the brick corner of the science building, checking for students. He saw a group of boys and hid, pressing his back to the building. Earlier, he managed to sneak into the gym and change into his uniform.

Students had been coming up to him every time they saw him, calling his name in that syrupy voice of "Oh, Alfie ~".

Students who had never given him the time of day before. Normally, Alfred wasn't the time to turn down kindness, even if suspicious, but he felt this had something to do with Ivan.

* * *

And his suspicion was confirmed when finally the students got ahold of him and lead him to the fountain in the school courtyard. The very one he met Toris nearby.

There was a table set up there now with stacks of photos on it, photos students were eagerly grabbing. All those photos were smaller versions of the giant, blown-up photo that was set on a stand in front of the fountain.

"No…" he breathed. His heart plummeted at the blown-photo of his kiss with Ivan.

The worse was not the kiss; it was Alfred's expression, his shut eyes and his look of _liking_ it that made him queasy. Ivan had him tilted back, one hand cradling the back of Alfred's head. Snow lay in clumps on the sidewalk and part of the brick exterior of a building could be seen.

Alfred swallowed hard, blushing form head to toe.

"You swing that way, huh?" a senior chuckled. His comment ended in an "oof" when Alfred elbowed him in the gut without looking back.

Rushing to the table, Alfred ripped off one of the photos, hand trembling as he stared at his doom. His other hand curled into a fist.

"You're adorable together!" A girl chimed beside him.

 _Ivan… that rat bastard! He did this!_

"Where is Ivan Braginski?" Alfred growled.

"As if I know wh—." she yelped when Alfred grabbed the front of her uniform and dragged her closed, glaring into her eyes.

All humor gone from his voice, Alfred said darkly, "Where. is. _Ivan?_ "

Her blue eyes rounded in fright.

* * *

"And that, gentlemen," Francis finished as he dabbed the last crumbs of creme bruelle from his lips with a lace handkerchief, "is why posing nude for art students is my gift to humanity."

Gilbert snorted with laughter, about to respond when they heard a roar echo up from the dining area below. A call of "IVAN BRAGINSKI!"

Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis all sat around a polished mahogany table eating breakfast. They exchanged surprised looks.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the velveted stairs, broken only by the sound of someone — _Alfred_ — stumbling and a cry of "Shit! Fuck!" before they regained their footing and burst into the Iron Quartet's personal eating area.

An out-of-breath and red-faced Alfred appeared and pointed accusingly at Ivan who sat in a corner by the tall, narrow windows, reading a book on Chess.

"You son of a bitch!" Alfred yelled.

Ivan closed his book and smiled innocently at Alfred from the red cushioned chair he sat in.

"Sunflower?"

"Don't Sunflower me!" Alfred snarled, stomping bast the Bad Touch Trio who adjusted their chairs to face the unfolding drama. He tossed a crumpled ball of paper in Ivan's lap. "Explain this, asshole!"

Ivan picked it up and began unfolding it. "It's a photograph. You use ink to create a—."

"I know what it is!" Alfred interrupted! "It's what it's of! What the fuck is wrong with you? How you put that up for the whole school to see? Is this your idea of revenge?"

Francis glanced at Antonio who shrugged. Gilbert appeared equally mystified.

Ivan smiled wider as he held up the photo. "Aw, it's our kiss."

"Kiss?" the Bad Touch trio blurted out in unison.

Francis was the first on his feet and rushing over to see. Alfred tried to block his way, but Gilbert got around on the other side and nabbed the photo from Ivan who seemed fine to share it.

"Hey!" Alfred said.

"Ivan, you dog," Gilbert said, dancing out of reach of Alfred as the other two crowded around for a peek.

Francis used it as a chance to touch Gilbert's ass until he elbowed sharply in the gut. He gasped and clutched at the window sill while Antonio and Gilbert studied the photo.

While they were occupied, Alfred grabbed Ivan's arm and pulled for him to follow.

"C'mon. I want to talk to you. _Alone._ "

"Oh- ho! Private time for the lovebirds!" Gilbert taunted from behind.

"Fuck off!" Alfred called, waving the finger at Gilbert without looking back as Ivan allowed himself to be led by the arm.

* * *

"There is something about closets you like," Ivan noted.

Alfred grunted as he shut the door and rounded on Ivan. He spoke in a low voice, knowing several students had watched them go in and were no doubt listening.

"Because there's bleach in here so I can hide the evidence after I _murder_ you!"

Ivan chuckled, as if he found that a sweet thing to say.

"Tell me right now why the fuck you posted those photos all over the school!" Alfred said, hands curled into fists.

"I can't, because I didn't do that."

"Like hell you didn't. It has your handiwork all over it!"

"It wasn't me," Ivan said simply.

"You're such a fucking liar!" Alfred said and grabbed the door handle. He opened it a crack when Ivan slammed it shut, placing both hands to either side of Alfred who turned around and met his glare.

"I have not lied to you," Ivan said. "I did not put those photos out."

"Well, if you didn't, then who did?"

They both paused in thought, looking off to the side and then suddenly looked at each other in realization.

"The french bastard!" they said in unison, point at each other.

"He can get carried away in his _pursuits_ ," Ivan said.

"That smarmy asshole," Alfred said. "Never trust the french. All right. We need to announce it's a hoax. We're not dating."

"I can't do that," Ivan said, pressing closer.

Alfred pushed back. "Why not?"

"That'd be lying. You're my boyfriend."

"You're… like hell I am!" Alfred said, shoving back Ivan who went back a couple steps. "You surprised attacked me! And don't get me started about that! I practically used a whole bottle of mouthwash getting your taste out."

Ivan smiled at that.

"How about another attack?" Ivan said, leaning closer.

"How 'bout I beat your face in?" Alfred replied. "If you won't tell everyone, then I will. We're not going out."

"They won't believe you," Ivan said. "But I know another way."

Alfred paused, letting go of the knob. He stared suspiciously at Ivan.

"What do you suggest?"

"Be my boyfriend."

Alfred slapped his forehead and grabbed the knob. Ivan grabbed his wrist and squeezed. "Listen, Fredka," Ivan said. "If we're a couple, we can break up. _Publicly_."

Alfred paused. Was Ivan really suggesting this?

"This is a trick to make me go steady with you."

"No trick," Ivan said with a sweet smile. That dark aura seemed to ooze off him. Alfred swear the man only needed fox ears to complete the image. "Be my boyfriend for a year—."

"Week," Alfred said.

"Month. We can work out details later," Ivan said before Alfred could respond. "Either way. We date and then break up publicly."

"You're suggesting this?" Alfred said. He considered it. Date Ivan for a bit and then publicly dump him before the whole school? He smiled a the thought. "All right." Ivan brightened at that. "I'll agree, _if_ you agree that I break up with you and I get to pick _how_ we break up."

"Nothing too ridiculous," Ivan said.

"My terms. Take 'em or leave 'em," Alfred said.

"I accept."

"And one more thing," Alfred added, jabbing a finger at Ivan. "No more gifts, favors, or presents for my family. I want you to stay away from them. Understand?"

Ivan nodded, but looked as if he were plotting something.

"I can accept those terms."

"Also!" Alfred quickly added. "No handholding, touching, or kissing or anything."

"How will any believe we are dating without some public displays of affection?"

Alfred frowned. "All right, a bit." He held his thumb and forefinger apart. "We'll work out how much later. For now, let's shake on our Boyfriend Agreement."

He stuck out his hand.

Ivan glanced at the hand and, instead of grabbing Alfred's hand, took his wrist and yanked him into a hug, lifting Alfred off his feet.

"Stop it!" Alfred yelped as Ivan squeezed the life out of him.

"You won't regret it! I'll be the best boyfriend ever!"

"I regret already!" Alfred wheezed as Ivan swung him around. "Stop crushing me!"

"We should seal things with a kiss!" Ivan said.

"No! No!"

* * *

A very disheveled Alfred left the closet a few minutes later amid the giggles of students. He tried to escape before Ivan got out, but the man was too fast.

He stayed glued beside Alfred, announcing to everyone, "My boyfriend!"

People whistled and catcalled. Alfred went red and kept a hand clamped over his neck, cursing at Ivan who had left a 'hickey'.

In return Alfred had left Ivan a black eye or what Ivan called 'a love tap from my boyfriend'.

People would certainly think they were both abusing each other. Alfred had a feeling there would be a lot of bruises between them.

Ivan look nothing but pleased and Alfred felt nothing but regretful.

* * *

Thirty minutes after Alfred and Ivan left, the Bad Touch Trios phones buzzed with a text message from Ivan. After exchanging raised eyebrows, they were surprised to read Ivan's text of:

 _Sunflower and I are a couple._

Francis frowned when he realized Ivan had added 'Grope him. You die' to his text to Francis.

"Why did _mon lapin_ single me out?" Francis whined.

The other stared him for a moment.

"I think it's unfair. I don't grope people. I explore them," Francis defended.

"I can't believe Alfred agreed to go out with Ivan. Does he have a death wish?" Antonio said.

"The answer's clear," Gilbert said. "Alfred's is stupid. Guess your plan worked, eh Frenchie?"

Francis quirked a slender, well-trimmed eyebrow. "What plan are you referring to, _mon dieu_?"

"Please," Gilbert snorted. "We all know you posted that photo. That's your style."

"As much I wish I could take credit for this, this was not me. Do you think I'd wait for hours in the blistering cold for this?" Francis said, gesturing at the photo. "Risking my beautiful skin?"

"You hired someone then," Antonio said.

"I did no such thing," Francis said. "And I'm hurt you'd suspect me of sending a photographer to stalk someone. They must have followed one of them for days to…"

He picked up the photo.

"What is it?" Antonio asked.

"N-nothing," Francis said with a shake of his head. "Besides, do you really think I'd allow _this_ to be displayed. No filter? No sparkles? The person behind this didn't even smooth out the pores. No, no, no that is not my style."

"That's true," Antonio said. "But then who did?"

"It was Ivan after all," Gilbert said. "You know how over the top he can get when he wants something."

The others nodded in agreement.

"And it worked," Gilbert said.

Francis set the photo down. "Still… it doesn't feel like _mon lapin's_ style."

"It was clearly him," Gilbert said.

"Unless his fan club was stalking him," Antonio said. "I mean, if it wasn't Ivan, then who?"

"Nah, it was Ivan," Gilbert said.

And they all laughed in agreement.

"A toast to _L'amour_!" Francis said, lifting up his glass of wine. The others raised theirs. "May those two idiots find happiness in each other's craziness!"

They clinked their glasses.

* * *

Beethoven's 5th symphony blared on the CD player on the shelf. It helped Eduard concentrate as he worked on paperwork, pausing only to sip his tea.

When the black phone buzzed, he set his fountain pen back in its holder and picked it up. After flipping it open, he read the text:

 ** _Pawn has moved to D6_**

Eduard smiled and typed in a response:

 **Then move the Queen to f7.**

Eduard set the phone down and during a lull in the music, said, "Checkmate."

* * *

 **TBC** in… " **Tino's New Job** "

Tino is hired for a great new position. It's almost too good to be true. Maybe it is to good to be true. And his new boss would like to meet Alfred…

What could go wrong in a couple burdened by poor communication, terrible mistrust and crazy jealousy?

* * *

 **Shameless Advertising**

* * *

If you like Cardverse Hetalia and US/UK then check out my new story called **"Out Of Spades** ".

It'll be posted soon.

* * *

 **Blurb:**

The world of the Cards is being consumed by a being known as the Entity, with the last of their power the Kings and Queens of the Suits send a lone hero to their mirror world, Earth, to find a new Queen of Spades before the Entity destroys them all.

Alfred, King of Spades, lands literally in front of Arthur who he recruits to help him find the next Queen, whoever she might be. But maybe in this Earth the next Queen isn't a _she_ …

The clock is ticking and time is not their their side…

* * *

 **Chapter 16-25 Acknowledgements**

* * *

(I hope I got everyone. I didn't write commenters multiple times. What I did was sometimes reply to their comments. If you see this (16) that marks a chapter comment I'm specifically replying to that you wrote. :)

And wow, having a lot of commenters to acknowledge is a wonderful and glorious problem. Thank you all! )

 **SomethingMoreQ —** (16) I'm glad to read all your amazing comments! Glad I got you hooked!

 **XxkogainugamixX** — (17) Glad you're sticking with this.

 **BlackNoblesse** — (17) :)

 **justlikeCanada — (19)** :D

 **zen4365 —** Ah, thank you!

 **monochromatic-tomato —** (17) Can't wait to get it out!

 **Sasunaru13 — (21)** In the original Boys Over Flower he stands out in the rain and they go into a crummy building and the elevator stops. I felt a blackout would be better reason than "bad wiring with bad timing". I hope my changes work better for the story. Thanks for reading.

 **Yami Mizuna** — (20) Foreshadowing…

 **MasonJar42486—** yup. Hope you liked them. :)

 **nicolai87 —** Thank you for reading and commenting as much as you do. (24) Hehehe. I couldn't resist.

 **espeon64 — :D**

 **EloiseTheTomato —** Thank you!

 **AMO—** (16) It'll take him time. They're stubborn ;)

 **Rising from the Ashes YOLT** — (20) Yup. It's true.

 **fluffnights — (19)** As you wish :) (20) Yes! I mean… erm… no? Of course not :P

 **neverXmind —** Poor Ivan indeed.

 **Doubled-Helix** — (17) Well, when it's a comfortable closet ;)

 **sakerat** — Thank you!

 **pastaaddict —** Every time I see your name, I crave pasta. Your comments bring me joy and your name makes me hungry. :I (24) I think they are talking to themselves more than each other sometimes…

 **ivyshadow13 —** Wow, thank you for reading and always consistently commenting!

 **WhiteXTrainer 00 —** hehe. I love those stories.

 **AwesomeMapleLeaves** — (17) Glad you found it again.

 **ThatGirlUnderTheBox** — You're name intrigues me.

 **Galatic Ink** — (17) Oh, I love reading your stories. I really should comment more, but I hardly use the computer signed into amy ff net account.

 **ChamiriHatake101** — (17) I adore the Korean drama. My favorite relationship is with Ga Eul. I'm totally going into that one when we get to Mattie's relationship stuff. Which is in about 3-4 more chapters. :)

 **Anon-Mau5** — (17) Thank you!

 **CanaSoda** — (17) There is. I love that pairing. Mattie and guess who will that play the roles for that pairing.

 **Platyfan 101** — (17) Glad to hear from you!

 **Lark Tuna** — (17) Aw, thank you so much.

 **Ashcola17** — (25) Glad to hear it. Warms my heart.

— (17) I think some of it's selective memory on Al's part. According to the creator of Hetalia, it's not that Alfred isn't aware of the mood, it's that he chooses not to see it. So some of Alfred's cluelessness is just his mind going "nope, not gonna accept this".

 **Mikungato20** — (17) Thank you!

 **Fightmeilikehetaliafiction —** (17) :) (19) ouch. 29 hours?! Glad I could cheer you up from that.

 **Espeon64 —** (17) We'll see ;) (20) I know, right?

 **Akrakya — (20)** Aw, that's wonderful. It's tough reading another language. I can speak two others, but I can't write in them :/

 **III59 — :)**

 **Angeldonut —** Wow, thank you for reading and commenting.

 **Iron Rose Writer — (19)** You're name is similar to my original ff net. Cool coincidence :) (20) Keep that tissue box handy. More sad times are too come.

 **Sparkle Paws —** Your name sounds like something that should be made into a product line. Seriously, I don't even know what Sparkle Paws are, but I want them. :)

 **spicygenou —** This plot is just getting warmed up.

 **sakerat —** Thank you!

 **Ariaprincess —** Aw, thanks!

 **Hispanicgirl1313 — (20)** Thank you!

 **Klei** — (21) I know. Good Rusame can be hard to find. Glad you like this.

 **Pyrrhic victor —** (21) Thanks. I mixed around certain roles and borrowed heavily from both the dramas and comics and my own ideas. I'm glad it's working.

 **RUSAME LOVER — :D**

 **HazyDayzz —** Thank you!

 **okaylove731 — (21)** Can't have that. I enjoy writing this. And I have such a positive fanbase to keep me motivated :)

 **StarrenPI —** (22) Hey! You're back. Good to hear from you! (24) And he's going to get darker. (25) He also has this view that he can't appear weak before Alfred. Silly boy.

 **candyfists** — (22) He was so exposed. ;)

 **Chiliburrito** — (24) I hoped it would surprise people.

 **I'veLostMyPride** — (25) Chess will do that to you. :)

 **And many, many anon guests! Thank you everyone for your favs and likes. I hope I got everyone.**


	27. Tino's New Job

**Tino's New Job**

* * *

"Hey, Al!" Matthew's soft voice called as he peeked out of the Pancake Factory's Kitchen. Aromas of bacon grease wafted out. His hair was pulled up in a net and he had on his usual red-colored apron.

"A bear mauled me!" Alfred cried, throwing his back against his locker, slapping a hand over the bandage on his neck. In his head he cursed. That wasn't the excuse.

He had practiced this. _A dinosaur-size mosquito stabbed my neck_ , he had been supposed to say. There was no way Matthew would believe a bear.

"Riiight," Matthew said, lips crooking up on the left side of his mouth. "A hickey?"

"No," Alfred lied, voice higher than he meant. "You can't prove anything."

Matthew arched an eyebrow. "Dad called Lukas. He asked if Lukas would work the closing and let us both off by nine. And, after Lukas consulted with the 'spirits beyond'."

"His magic eight ball?"

Matthew nodded. "Lukas agreed."

"Nine?" Alfred tossed off his T-shirt and pulled on his orange polo. "That's a short shift."

"For you. I've been here since four-thirty."

"Did dad say why?" Alfred began wriggling out of his jogging pants to slip on his black work slacks.

"Only that it's a big surprise and he's cooking dinner." There was a loud sizzling pop in the kitchen and the smell of something burning. "Oops. Gotta go."

Alfred paused to stare into the square mirror of his locker's door, checking his neck. "That asshole," he muttered, touching the bandage.

He smiled, remembering the black eye he gave Ivan.

Alfred wondered what his dad wanted; it better not having anything to do with Ivan.

* * *

The pop of a cork from a champagne bottle caused Alfred, back turned to Tino as he set the table, to mistake it for a gunshot. By instinct, he leap onto Matthew with a cry of "hit the deck" and knocked his brother flat onto the carpet of the living room.

It took a moment to realize his error; it look less than that to realize Matthew probably wanted to kill him. Luckily, landing on his back and Alfred landing on top of him had knocked the wind out of Matthew who lay gasping and wheezing for air.

"What on Earth, Al?" Tino said. "Mattie, are you all right?"

"Erm…" Alfred climbed off and backed away from Matthew who glared at him murderously. He had seen his brother play hockey. "There was a mosquito. Big one. I saved you. No need to thank your hero."

Matthew opened his mouth, but could not get anything more than gasping breathes out.

Tino set down the champagne bottle and hurried over while Berwald watched with concern from the other side of the table. "I warned you about roughhousing, Al."

"It was big mosquito. Would have drained the life from him," Alfred said, gesturing with his arms.

 _I'll drain the life from you_ , Matthew mouthed as Tino helped him to the table.

"Enough of this. I want us all to have a nice meal tonight," Tino said, taking his seat on the other side of the table, across from Berwald who was far taller and wore a perpetually stern expression. "I have big news. You won't believe what's happened."

Both Matthew and Alfred leaned forward.

"I've been hired as a PR assistant at the Glass Factory on St. Cross Drive!" Tino announced.

Matthew clapped. Berwald gave an approving grunt. Alfred frowned.

When he didn't join in, the others looked at him in confusion. Realizing his mistake, he slapped on a grin and said, "That's awesome! So cool. When do you start?"

"Tomorrow," Tino said, pouring his champagne into his wine glass and Berwald's.

"Tomorrow?" Alfred said, even Matthew seemed shocked. "Isn't that fast? What about your other jobs?"

"I had to the quit them on short notice," Tino said. "It was so satisfying finally telling that ogre, Mr. Peterson, to take a hike."

"But… isn't that risky?"

"No. I already filled out the paperwork," Tino said. "They needed someone right away. I couldn't pass up an offer. It's more than all my jobs combined and full insurance benefits. This is it. The chance we've been waiting for to get back on our feet!"

"Yeah… amazing timing," Alfred said nervously. Matthew cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I know ~" Tino agreed. "I got the call from an old family friend back in Finland. I used to babysit their son. This mild-mannered boy. A good student. Can't quite recall his name."

"And they just called you out of the blue?" Alfred asked.

"Just out of the blue." Tino snapped his fingers. "Miracles do happen. And, with this job, I don't have to work as Santa on Christmas."

"I though…" Matthew coughed a bit, regaining his voice. "You liked doing that."

"I do. But I want to do it here. With the family," Tino said. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yeah… fantastic," Alfred said, poking at one of the meatballs in his spaghetti with his fork. "Perfect timing."

Matthew looked at him questioningly.

* * *

That night as they lay across from each other in their beds, street light creeping in from outside, Matthew asked, "Was it Ivan?"

Alfred put his forearm over his forehead and sighed heavily. "I hope not. He promised he wouldn't do any more favors. Then again, he wiggles and twists out of everything he promises."

"You can't tell dad," Matthew said, sitting up. He hugged Kumajiro, if Alfred ever shared that Matthew still slept with his stuffed bear, he was sure he'd wind up beaten to death in an alley or drowned in a vat of maple syrup. "He'll be crushed."

"I know," Alfred said, punching a fist into his mattress. "I can't believe that bastard."

"Maybe he didn't mean harm."

"Are you kidding me?" Alfred said, rolling on his other side to stare at Matthew. He sat up on his elbow. "He's a control freak. Doing this puts me under his thumb."

"He wouldn't get dad fired just because you broke up, would he?" A nervous tone tinged his words.

"I don't know what Ivan would do." Alfred flopped back on his pillow and covered his eyes. "All I know is that this pisses me off. I already said I'd date him. He didn—."

"You _what?_ "

"Keep it down. The walls are thin," Alfred said.

"Al, people have trouble hearing me when I shout in the same room. You're the noisy one."

"Ah, right," Alfred said with a grin.

"You're dating Ivan? But you hate him."

"Still do."

"Then why?"

"I don't know," Alfred said, folding his arms behind his head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"After all he did, after what you described… I don't understand. He's a bully. You can't change him."

"I can try!" Alfred said defensively.

"Al."

Alfred sighed. "He looked so lonely. Like he needed a hero…"

"He's manipulating you. He figured out your weakness. You can't trust people like that," Matthew said.

"People like that Cuban what's-his-face?"

"That's not fair, Al." The warning clear in Matthew's tone. "Remember, I still haven't forgiven you for tackling me in the living room."

"Again, saving your ass from a deadly mosquito attack. Sheesh, and not a word of gratitude."

"What idiot mistakes a cork popping as a gunshot, oh _wait_ …"

"Shut up," Alfred said, flashing him the finger.

After a long pause, Matthew said grimly, "Do you love Ivan?"

Alfred cracked up at that. "Really, Mattie? C'mon."

"Do you think you could love him?"

Alfred frowned. "No. Okay, maybe there is some lust. You looked him up on google. Who wouldn't?"

Matthew nodded in agreement. "What if things go sour?"

"He'll probably get bored before that."

"Doesn't he love you?" Matthew asked.

"More like infarte… infanti…in—."

" _Infatuated_ ," Matthew corrected. "You're lucky Arthur isn't around anymore." Alfred felt his heart sink a bit at mention of their former mentor. Matthew knew it was a touchy subject for Alfred. "Sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"It's fine," Alfred said. Secretly, he had kept the set of wooden toy soldiers Arthur gave to him before their fall out. He kept them in a box under his bed. It was not longer after their big fight that they never saw Arthur again. The man disappeared. "Ivan is just _infatuated_. I'm just a toy he likes. He'll get bored and find something new. We'll have our fun for now."

"You make it sound like your prostituting yourself."

"Maybe I am." _And maybe I don't mind._ "Maybe it'll be easier."

"You're sure Ivan did this? Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"It could be," Alfred said. "I wish I could believe that. Dad deserves this chance. He's over-qualified for it. And if he gets hurt because of Ivan…"

Alfred didn't finish the statement. He left the rest hanging.

 _I'll never forgive Ivan_.

* * *

 **TBC** in … " **Resentment"**

It begins.

* * *

 **Note #1 —** This won't follow BOF canon exactly. It borrows from both the comics and the dramas and has my own added touches. It borrows certain key plot points and ignores others. It's not entirely the same, but most of the major plot points are being used such as the infamous ones — the scandal, the _big_ betrayal, the letdown, and the payback — all of which appear in all the dramas and comics.

I'm just going a lot further on one of them than the original story did.

Perhaps it's better to say this story draws a lot of inspiration from BOF.

* * *

 **Note #2** — Sorry if this chapter was a bit slow and had mostly talking. Got a few pieces still to position for the build to the climax, emotional pieces.

I hope you can see what's being set up. The biggest problem between Ivan and Alfred — besides awful communication — is that they don't trust each other.

Which can lead to disappointment, misunderstanding, resentment, and jealousy.

And the lack of trust sets off Ivan's need to control. Which sets off Alfred's need to rebel against anyone trying to control him.

Grab your popcorn. A firework show is coming…


	28. Jealousy

**Note # 1 —** Thank you everyone for your comments, favs and likes. I decided to change the title to "Jealousy" because I felt it fit today's chapter better. Sorry certain things taken longer to reach than intended. The curse of writing is pacing. :(

* * *

 **Note # 2** — Is it just me, but ffnet won't work for certain hours of the day. This has been going on for days now.

* * *

 **Jealousy**

* * *

"Mattie ~" Alfred whined, clutching his stomach. It gave a loud growl. "Did you hear that? That's the sound of death. _Your_ hero dying. Don't you care? Or are you just cruel?"

Giving Matthew a side look as he flipped the pancakes in his iron skillet, he asked, "Can I answer honestly?"

"Mattie!" Alfred hit his palm so hard on the pine table that his glass of orange juice jumped slightly. "This is serious! I can't take much more. I think I see a light." He pretended to stare off into the ceiling. "God, is that you?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Go into the light, Al. Do us all a favor."

"That's a cruel thing to say to your heroic older brother."

" _Younger."_

"Debatable," Alfred replied.

Matthew moved the last pancake onto Alfred's stack of twelve with a spatula before carrying the plate over. With a _thunk_ , he dropped it on the checkered place mat in front of Alfred. "Here."

"Finally," Alfred said, using his butter knife to slather on a dollop of margarine and his other hand to pour the syrup. "I knew my favorite sidekick would support me in the end."

He grinned and gave a thumbs up. If looks could kill, Matthew's gaze was beating Alfred to death with a hockey stick right now.

"There's this word called 'thank you'," Matthew grumbled, setting the skillet down. He had a red apron on over his white sweater with the Canadian flag on the front, one made to look like a hockey jersey.

" _mwank uh_ ," Alfred said through a mouthful of pancake.

"May all your bacon _burn."_

Alfred choked a bit on his pancake, thumping a fist against his chest. He grabbed his orange juice and gulped down. With a smack of his lips, he said, "That's a cruel thing to say, even for you!"

Matthew gave a sly smile as he hung up his apron and carried his stack of six over to sit across from Alfred. His gaze shifted to behind Alfred and he lifted a hand and said, "Good morning."

Alfred pivoted around in his chair and, through another mouthful of pancakes, called, "" _gum wah chum ga!_ "

Frowning, Tino, who was dressed in a dark blue suit, said, "Al, don't talk while you're eating." Alfred grunted. "It smells delicious. Where's Mattie?"

"Um…"

Alfred scooted his chair to the left.

"Oh, Mattie, didn't see you there!"

Matthew tried to mask his frown, but Alfred saw it.

After swallowing more juice, Alfred whistled and called, "Lookin' fine, dad! Spiffy!"

"You think so? Does it look professional?" Tino asked as he fiddled with the front of his blue business suit. "I haven't worn it in ages."

Alfred gave a thumbs up while he bent over his plate, shoveling in more food.

Matthew gave Alfred a level look and shook his head. "Try to breathe between bites, Al. It's a wonder you haven't choked to death."

" _Eh ud nn gag reefreshuks!_ "

Groaning, Matthew said, "I didn't understand a word of that."

Alfred reached for his glass of juice.

* * *

After a call of "Give 'em hell today, dad!" Alfred was out the door and hopping over every step. He grabbed Tony and carried him onto the stoop.

"Morning world!"

"Morning Fredka!" the world responded.

 _No wait_ , his mind caught up with the fact that Ivan stood on the sidewalk, leaned against the side of a slick, black limo. First, Ivan looked sexy in his relaxed posture and school uniform, and second, the smoldering way he checked Alfred out was even sexier.

"The fuck…" A scowl from a passing Mrs. Sneldon caused Alfred to change it to, "the heck are you doing here?"

"As boyfriends we must ride together ~" Ivan said loudly. Alfred went bright red as others, including Mrs. Sneldon, glanced over in shock.

"He's kidding! Really! We're just great friends," Alfred said.

"The kind that sleep together and have benefits ~" Ivan added.

"Shut up, Ivan!" Alfred rushed over, not even noticing as Germania picked up Tony to put in the trunk. "Get in! Get in!"

Ivan looked surprised as Alfred practically shoved him into the back of the limo.

"Eager, are we?"

"Stop talking!" Alfred yelled, red all over.

This was a disaster.

* * *

"And another thing!" Alfred said, continuing his tirade with his fist cocked back if Ivan tried to pounce on him again for a "Good morning kiss". "Don't pick me up anymore. A limo picking me up is going to give the wrong impression in my neighborhood."

"Why?" Ivan asked, sounding curious.

"Coz it's not normal there! People will think we're mobsters or something! We'll be a target!" Alfred said.

"Should I arrange for you to live somewhere else. My home has m—."

"No!" Alfred interrupted. "I'm not living with you! Ever."

"What about a security detail?"

"Hell no! Just don't pick me up!"

Ivan seemed confused and lost in thought for a moment. Had Alfred finally reached him?

Then Ivan said, "There is Rocky Road in the mini-fridge ~"

"Really?" Alfred fell into the trap, lead by his taste buds, he left his fortified position — smushed against the side door — and turned his back to Ivan as he went to search the mini-fridge.

 _Big mistake._

No sooner was his back turned to Ivan then a shadow fell across him.

He turned just as Ivan pounced on him from behind.

* * *

"Your face broke my fist," Alfred muttered, rubbing the bruised knuckles as he sat in the passenger seat next to Germania. He was still red-faced and disheveled from their "scuffle" on the floor of the limo. One that had Ivan straddling him for a good part of it.

Ivan, confined to the back of the limo, stuck his head through.

"Your punches are weak and girly like a typical American ~" Ivan said, smiling, no _leering_ at Alfred.

"Say _what?_ Don't go insulting the Land of the Free!" Alfred said, pressing the button in the center of the limo the one that rolled up the black tinted window.

A surprised Ivan was forced to removed his head or choke as the window sealed them from each other. It was meant to give privacy to those in the back seat, but it actually gave Alfred and Germania privacy.

"You shouldn't push my buttons," Germania warned.

"Worth it," Alfred said, threading his fingers together behind his head.

They both quietly ignored Ivan's muffled protests from the back, even when he called Germania on the limo's phone.

* * *

When the limo stopped, Alfred grabbed his bags and bolted. After all, Germania knew where to park Tony.

"Fredka ~!" Ivan called.

Alfred looked over his shoulder in time to Ivan disappear as he rounded a building, passing surprised students and took a short cut through one of the mini-parks all over the grounds.

Soon he was like the tiger in the jungle, rolling and dive-bombing his way to the gym. Ivan would have no chance to catch up and smother him.

With a glance over his shoulder that the coast was clear, he ran for the back doors of the gym and crept in. While on route to the showers and men's locker room, arms hooked around his waist and dragged him with a yelp into the closet.

Then teeth and lips gnawed at the side of his neck.

Red and angered, he shoved Ivan off.

"You bastard!" he cried, grabbed where Ivan had attempted to put another hickey. "Stop marking me! I'm not your pet!"

"You mark me ~" Ivan said.

"No, I punch you with my fists." Alfred backed out of the closet and stomped down the hallway. The russian followed behind.

"A small difference."

Alfred groaned. He needed a different tactic with Ivan; he needed to take a page out of Matthew's book. Stopping in his tracks, he rounded on Ivan and put on his best "hurt puppy" face.

"I can't believe you don't trust me," he said. "That hurts, man. Tears me up inside."

He bit his lip in order not to laugh. This was one of Matthew's favorite "passive-aggressive" tactics, the infamous "guilt trip". One he had learned from Tino, a devious assault that Berwald was helpless against.

"Oh, Fredka," Ivan said, grabbed Alfred's hands with both of his. "Forgive me. It was not my intent to hurt you."

To avoid cracking up, Alfred stared at the gray-tiled floor, digging the toe of his loafer into it. "I need you to trust me. Give me space. I have to breathe. I have to spread my wings and fly away." _He liked that song_. "Can you do that? Please."

The doe-eyes worked. A faint pink dusted Ivan's cheeks as he stared at Alfred.

Nodding, Ivan said, "I understand. I will give you space to change and shower."

"Good." Alfred nodded in agreement.

As Alfred turned to go, Ivan called, "Let me know if you need help changing. After all, you saw all of me."

Alfred froze, blushing madly. Did that mean Ivan remembered Alfred sneaking a peek in the elevator?

Today was a disaster.

* * *

Ivan seemed to predict Alfred's move before Alfred knew them himself.

Take his attempt to crawl out of the windows of the locker room. No sooner did he land with an "oomph" on the graze and turn to search for Toris when _bam_ — Ivan was there.

"Fredka! Let's go to breakfast!~" Ivan said cheerfully.

"How did you… but you were…" Alfred was so confused he did not resist when Ivan wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to the cafeteria.

* * *

Alfred had refused to eat breakfast with Ivan and the Bad Touch Trio. However, Ivan had started to sit _downstairs_ just to be with Alfred so Alfred grabbed what food he could from the salad bar — _yuck_ — and ran for it.

There was no sign of Toris anywhere to his consternation.

Finally, as he head to class there was Ivan _again_. He picked up his pace.

"Don't follow me to class!" Alfred said, gripping the strap of his backpack.

"Very well. I trust you now," Ivan said and stopped.

Alfred halted in his tracks, turning to studying Ivan suspiciously. "Since when?"

"Since now." Ivan's childish smile widened. "I know you can't deceive me."

Alfred frowned. With a shake of his head, he stormed off to his math class, cursing under his breath at "that idiot Braginski."

* * *

It was midway through Mr. Galante's lecture — calculations scattered across the board — and Alfred was busying copying when he noticed a couple students staring out the window and pointing.

Drawn by curiosity, he glanced out and frowned at a strange black object — like a miniature helicopter — that hovered in the sky just above an elm.

"It's a bird," a nearby girl whispered.

"No, it's a plane," the boy seated behind him said.

"Oh, fuck me," Alfred blurted out. "It's a drone!"

The class turned in their seat to stare at him and then several stood up to look.

"Everyone!" Mr. Galante said, setting down his marker, he tried to calm the class. "Back to your seats. What's this about a…" he trailed off, gaping out the window.

While a couple meters away, Alfred could see the drone's camera fixed on him. He had never wanted to shoot something out of the sky more than he did now.

 _Fucking Braginski._

* * *

For the first time in his life, Alfred looked forward to English class, or more of the concrete, windowless room it was taught in. No windows. No more awkwardly asking the teacher to lower the blinds.

In the midst of falling asleep through the Mrs. Wickens reading of the Third Act of Hamlet, a whirring and clicking noise woke him. Frowning, Alfred stared at the pot of sunflowers on a shelf near his desk.

 _Was that there last week?_

He peered closer, past the leaves and petals, and saw the little camera.

"That son of a bitch!" he snapped, and blushed when Mrs. Wicker and the class looked at him. "I mean… erm…"

"Mr. Jones," Mrs. Wicker said tersely. Then she brightened, "I love it when students show passion for Hamlet! That's exactly how Hamlet felt about Claudius."

And she carried on.

When she wasn't looking, he stood up, grabbed the pot, and dropped in the trash.

* * *

At lunch, Alfred carried a trash back to the Iron Quartet's private eating area and marched straight over to Ivan who sat as always in his corner. Without a word, Alfred upended onto Ivan's lap.

Sunflowers, the pot they had been in, and dozens of chips, and animal-shaped drones fell out. Ivan calmly let them land in his lap, staring up in a puzzled and innocent way at Alfred.

The Bad Touch Trio once more turned their chairs to face the action while they continued to eat their lunch.

"Presents?" Ivan asked.

In a voice, half-growl, Alfred said, "This is your shit! What happened to trusting me?"

"I do trust you. It's _other_ people I don't trust," Ivan said, his voice darkening on the word 'other'.

"Dating does not give you the right to invade my privacy! Stop spying on me, asshole!"

"A Russian Spy? Isn't that cliche?" Gilbert whispered, but the others waved him to silence.

"I think you're overreacting. There's no need for paranoia," Ivan said in a voice clearly meant to sound soothing.

Alfred shook, face going red. He exploded, "I'M BEING PARANOID?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDIN' ME? DO YOU KNOW HOW INSANE YOU ARE? I'M NOT GONNA CHEAT!"

"I know," Ivan said, rubbing his ear. "I trust you. But you are too innocent and there are _those_ ," he gave Francis a sinister side glance, one that made the man flinch, "who will take advantage of your naiveté."

"You can't just follow me around like this!" Alfred said, waving his arms about as he spoke. "Nobody puts me in a cage!"

"A cage?" Ivan brightened at the idea.

"That wasn't a suggestion!" Alfred shouted, hands balling into fists.

Ivan deflated, and Alfred was sure he heard the man mutter, "It'd be a nice one…"

"Ivan," Alfred said, gripping the arm rests and leaning over Ivan who blushed from the proximity. In a voice of barely concealed fury, Alfred said, "Either you remove every single one of your cameras, bugs, and what not, and promise to stop spying on me, or the deal is off. Coz if I find one more bug or spy device, I'm gonna break up with you right now. What's it gonna be, mofo?"

* * *

After much huffing, fuming, and _pouting_ , Ivan finally agreed. By the end of the day, Alfred had removed from his desks, classes, locker, clothes, bag, and _even_ his underwear over _forty-six_ devices.

By the end, he wanted to throttle Ivan. After stomping on them and smashing them with a rock, he dumped the pieces in front of Ivan with an "oops".

Ivan had seemed sad at the destruction of such expensive equipment and chided Alfred for being violent.

When Ivan tried to get them to ride together, Alfred had flat out refused, saying he had stuff to do. Finally, Ivan seemed to get the message that Alfred was actually pissed and _maybe_ he should back off.

It was a breakthrough.

As Alfred walked Tony down the icy road, he regretted not accepting a ride at least to the bottom. He cursed the cold weather. Ivan had sworn there were no bugs in Alfred's home, but Alfred didn't trust that phone Ivan gave him.

He planned to keep it in a sound proof box. Just in case.

And he planned to look under and through _everything_ when he got home.

First, he pulled out the map Tino gave him before he left this morning, he was gonna drop by his dad's new work and say "hi". Tino had really wanted him to come visit.

He had said his new boss was eager to meet "Tino's sons".

* * *

 **TBC** in " **Empty Eyes** "

Alfred meets Tino's boss and is surprised to find him around Alfred's age. There is something off about that smile. The eyes seem dead, but he is very nice and mature. So opposite the childish and sweet Ivan…


	29. Empty Eyes

**Note # 1** — Some readers were afraid I was on hiatus. Nope!

Just got busy and this chapter was tough to write.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** A kind reader informed that Russians never say "Fredka". I used to teach Russian students. Russian is one language that doesn't make sense to me. My students tried to teach simple phrases and it always came out wrong.

It became a source of comedy. My attempt to count in Russian had my students in stitches.

That's why I rarely have Ivan speak Russian and generally Ivan speaks it in my stories simply to piss off and baffle Alfred. It gets Alfred's attention.

"Why are you saying 'da'?" Alfred might ask.

Ivan would smile innocently and reply, "No reason."

Anyhow, apparently "Fredka" is absolutely wrong. It's "Fedya", "Al" or "Fred". So I shall use "Fedya" now because that'll piss Alfred off more. Ignore past uses of Fredka.

* * *

 **Empty Eyes**

* * *

When by himself, Alfred would practice his impersonations. He felt had did a damn good Clint Eastwood — no matter what Matthew said. That same Matthew enjoyed Alfred's _Christopher Walken_ , only wishing he would stop overdoing it.

Patrons at the Pancake Factory often gave great tips when Alfred did his Looney Toons and Mr. T impressions. However, the best rewards came from the kids. He had delighted one little girl on her birthday by imitating _Stitch_.

Matthew had once tried to convince Alfred to brave the stage at at Comedy Club, but Alfred wasn't ready for that. He was not as confident as he acted.

In the middle of an impersonation of Lord Voldemort, he gestured to his right. "Harry Potter," he said breathlessly. He hissed on the 's'. "Do you like my _muggle_ prison?"

"No," Alfred said, shaking his head. Lowering his pitch and adding more air, he repeated, "Do you like my _muggle_ prison."

He frowned, squeezing Tony's handlebars. Why couldn't he get this right? If Matthew were here, he'd complain that Alfred's British accent sounded too American. Whatever that meant.

Switching to a Bond Villain, Alfred said to himself, "Well, Mr. Bond, what do you thick of my evil lair? No one would ever expect a Glass Factory! _Muwahahaha!_ "

He tossed his head back, laughing cruelly until an elderly lady across the street threw him a dirty look. Then he laughed cruelly in a quieter way.

"No. Still terrible." British accents sucked.

The red brick compound of the Glass Factory certainly looked menacing, a place enclosed by concrete walls with iron pikes and barb wire coiled on top. Black storm clouds would have suited the atmosphere better than the golden, late evening sky.

Seriously, why this much security for a _glass_ factory?

"Minions!" Alfred said, mimicking the voice from the protagonist/ villain of _Despicable Me_. "Listen here! First, we steal the moon! Second, we turn this into our new lair. Third, we will—."

He stopped cold, realizing that Gru spoke in a Russian accent. Alfred had been imitating a Russian accent. That brought his mind to Ivan and he colored.

"Hell, no." He shuddered, walking his bike up to the back gates and the squat, grey guardhouse.

Inside the window slept a security guard — fat, bald, and clutching a half-eaten chocolate-glazed donut — who was leaned back in his seat. _So much for security_. The guy could not be more cliche if his name was _Earl_. He jumped upright, donut dropping to the floor, when Alfred knocked on the glass.

"Whazzit? Wha…" He blinked awake. Round, bleary eyes focused on Alfred, fuzzy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows drew together. Bending over to pick up his donut, his gut squished against his thighs and he revealed a very prominent, hair butt crack.

Alfred cringed inside, but plastered on his best grin anyway.

"What do you need?" the man grunted, dusting off his donut before stuffing it in.

 _He broke the five second rule!_ Alfred thought in disgust. You never eat food if it's been there for more than five seconds. That was like law. Everyone knew that!

"Yo," Alfred glanced at the man's silver name tag, "Bob, is it? How're you doing?"

A less than amused Bob stood up, wiping his greasy fingers off on the thigh of his black slacks. "Name and business."

Chest puffed out, Alfred widened his grin and gave a thumbs up. "Alfred F. Jones. Hero extraordinaire. Here to rescue my father from the torture of menial labor!"

See, Alfred knew obscure words.

"You're not on the list," Bob grunted, grabbing a clipboard off the wall. He flipped through a couple pages. "Nope. No appointments for any heroes either."

Alfred's composure nearly broke. Seriously? Bob thought Alfred was being serious. "Um… my dad is Tino Oxenstierna. He started today. Said his boss invited me."

"To the back gates?" Bob muttered, pulling a pen out of the breast pocket of his grey, button down shirt. He clicked it and jotted something on the bottom of the page. "You need to head to the front gates."

"C'mon, dude. I got mixed up. It's a long walk. Can't I just go through this way?" He pointed at the gates. "I'll be late and my dad'll be pissed."

"Not my problem," the man grunted, scratching at a rather large, butt cheek absentmindedly. "Besides, didn't you say your name is Jones?"

"Yes."

"But your father's name is Oxen- whatever? Your parents divorced or somethin'?"

Alfred squeezed the handlebars, fighting back a flush of anger. In a tight voice, he said, "It's complicated. Can I please go in this way, sir?"

The man opened his mouth to answer when the phone in his guardhouse rang. Drawing together his salt and pepper eyebrows, he went inside to answer. Alfred glanced up at one of the security cameras above, surprised when the lens zoomed on him. Was he being watched?

"Hello?" Bob answered. His postured shifted from relax to rigid and apologetic. "S-sorry. I… I see, sir. Right away, sir." There was a distinct tremor of fear in Bob's voice.

Who was he talking to?

After he hung up, Bob pressed a button and the white gates began to open.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Jones. I had no idea you were expected by the Management."

"The who?"

Bob went back to his seat, waving Alfred through.

Throwing Bob a quizzical look, Alfred headed inside.

 _Weird._

* * *

While charming the slim receptionists with the bony face with his _Christopher Walken_ impression, Alfred heard the ding of the lobby elevator and turned to see his dad exiting with a man in a dark blue suit, one Alfred assumed to be a nicely dressed intern.

The guy leaned on a cane, one that clicked on the rose-marble of the floor as they came over. He looked as young as Alfred, but his eyes caught Alfred. They were so cold and empty.

Hairs rose on Alfred's nape from the way the man in square-framed glasses studied him, the way he smiled at him. A panther eyeing its prey.

"Al," Tino greeted cheerfully, waving. "This is my boss, Mr. Von Br—."

"What?" Alfred interrupted, almost falling over. "Him? This kid?" Then he colored. "I mean… oh shoot…"

Tino looked very unamused. In an apologetic tone, he said, "I'm sorry, sir. He tends to say the first thing that comes to his mind."

The _kid_ chuckled. "It's quite all right. I get this a lot. Yes, I am only a year older than you. There were a lot resentful that father gave me this position. I have aimed to prove them wrong and earn their respect."

"Man, I need to rethink my life goals. I can't believe you run a factory. That's amazing," Alfred said, rubbing his nape. He stuck out his hand. "It's… uh… nice to meet you. Sir."

"Likewise. I've heard so much about you, Alfred. Call me Ed if you like."

"Ed?"

"It's from Edward. However, I find that name too formal," Edward said, lips splitting in a widening smile, one that never reached his eyes.

"I know how you feel. My name's Alfred. Don't what my parents were thinking."

"Hey!" Tino said.

Edward took Alfred's hand. His eyes bulged slightly when Alfred shook it vigorously. His hand is cold and clammy, Alfred noted.

"Shall I show you around?" Edward said, removing his hand, massaging the palm.

"Really?"

Tino nodded. "Edward has been an amazing to me. He completely understands my disability."

"Tino is an amazing employee. And I understand needed to take it slow." Edward tapped his cane a couple times on the floor. He turned, waving for them to follow. "This way."

* * *

By the time they'd returned to the lobby it was dark. Alfred had gawked at the machinery in the factory part and the cubicles on the fourth floor where Tino worked.

They had just reached the lobby when Edward turned to Tino and, in a disappointed voice, said, "Oh drat. I left the file from the Bugany account upstairs. Good I ask you to retrieve it Tino. I can wait here with Al."

"Of course. Al stay here and be good!" Tino said, fixing Alfred a hard look.

"When am I not good?" Alfred called back as his dad headed for the elevator.

The receptionists was gone and the lobby was empty.

After the elevator doors closed and it was just the two of them, Edward turned to Alfred and asked grimly, "Be honest. How is Tino doing?"

"Uh… fine." Alfred forced on a smile. He looked up into Eduard's blue eyes when the man placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"I need honesty, Al." The man smiled gently. "I know your family is struggling. I want to help. My family and Tino go way back. Won't you let me help Tino?"

It was weird having a guy only a year older than him talk to Alfred as the adult.

Alfred opened his mouth and closed it. He hung his head and stared at the ground.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Eduard said.

"You already helped by hiring him." Alfred clenched his jaw. He suspected Ivan was behind this "generosity". He just didn't know how. He wanted to believe Eduard.

"I want to more more." He squeezed Alfred's shoulder, almost caressing it. It felt more intimate than it should. "People like us have to stick together. We're the good guys, after all. The heroes."

Alfred perked up at that. "What're you suggesting? Just giving him money?"

"No, no. Tino would be hurt if I did it that way." Eduard waved a dismissive hand. I remember my former babysitter who used to dress up as Santa."

"Still does," Alfred said.

Eduard leaned closer, the light glinting in his glasses. Alfred could see himself and Texas reflected in them. "I want to offer you a job."

"Job? Here? But I can't—."

"Not here. No, this would be a one time gig. I have this friend. He works with modes and you're exactly what he needs."

"Model!" Alfred blurted out, pointing at himself. "Me?"

Eduard's gazed traveled up and down. He nodded in approval. "Don't be so modest. You'd be perfect. You have an Adonis figure. You're exactly what's he's looking for and he'll pay well. Above market rate. As a favor to me."

"I can't accept that."

"You have to," Eduard said. "You can use it to help Tino. Please, hasn't he suffered enough?"

Alfred paused in thought. "Yeah…"

"Let me be a good guy. We can both be the hero. You won't regret it."

"B-but I don't have any experience and —."

"Relax. He knows how to work with first timers. C'mon. At least consider it," Eduard reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me on this number when you have had time to think it through."

Alfred took the card staring at it. "Don't I need parental consent? I'm not eighteen."

"After we take the photos, I'm sure we can persuade Tino," Eduard said. "He'll see how talented you are."

Alfred blushed. _Talented?_

"Mattie's gonna crack up when he's about this."

"That's another thing, Eduard said in a low voice, close to Alfred's ear. "You should keep this secret until after. If Tino found out…"

He left the statement hanging.

"Mattie wouldn't snitch."

"If you're sure," Eduard said with a shrug. "I can only advise."

Alfred chewed on his lip.

"Think on it and call me by tomorrow," Eduard said as the elevators door pinged open and Tino stepped out. "It'll be an evening you won't _ever_ forget."

Alfred tucked away the business card. Modeling? What could be the harm in that with a crazy, jealous boyfriend.

He groaned at the thought of Ivan. That guy could definitely not know about this.

* * *

TBC in… " **Liar, Lia** r".

Next chap has Ivan again. Shh… he mustn't know.


	30. Liar, Liar Pt One

**Note # 1 —** A reader asks how long updates take. That's a tough question to answer. Some parts of this story are already written. The chapters are sitting there ready to be updated when it's their turn. Other chapters need to be written. They're just paragraph summaries. Fleshing them out it time-consuming and sometimes — due to events in life — the mood to write doesn't strike. Or I find the chapter dull and feel, 'I can't put this out. The readers will get bored'. So it goes into a waiting phase until I feel it's good enough.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** Thank you for your patience on typos. I… am bad about that. :/

* * *

 **Liar, Liar Pt.1**

* * *

The business card was tucked in Alfred's wallet the next day at school. He thought about Eduard's offer the whole ride up and even now as he slunk into a cushioned seat in the cafeteria, plunking his backpack next to him and setting his tray of food down.

He inhaled his first cup of coffee, watching students filter in. When he arrived, the staff had been shocked because they had still been setting up.

Another thing on Alfred's mind was Toris. His friend's had remained disconnected and he had not come to school. Googles searches came up empty on Toris, as if the guy didn't exist on the internet.

It didn't seem possible.

A cheering, gushing crowd warned Alfred of Ivan. The tall man entered the cafeteria, looking around and then locked eyes on Alfred like the Terminator finding John Conner. He brightened — a smile so genuine that Alfred fought back a blush — and zoomed in to the corner table that Alfred had hidden at.

"Good morning, Fedya ~"

While sipping his coffee, Alfred gave Ivan the finger. He was a not a morning person. He hated mornings. Matthew was the early-riser, because Matthew was insane just like anyone who liked mornings in Alfred's opinions.

"Leave," Ivan said, flashing his childish smile at the crowd of gushing school girls who wilted and dispersed.

Then, to Alfred's horror, Ivan sat down across from him and stared at him. Just stared, almost without blinking.

"Don't you have an evil scheme to plot?" Alfred asked, setting down his empty coffee cup. "I can foil it later. When I'm awake." He stifled a yawn.

"The bags under your eyes are a lovely shade of purple," Ivan sighed. Alfred's eyes narrowed. Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Why were you not at your home when I arrived?"

"Because I left early to avoid you." Alfred yawned loudly, covering his mouth. _Fory-thirty, asshole_.

"Why?"

Alfred gave him a flat look. "I just said — to _avoid_ you."

"Why?"

"Because I hate you."

"Why?"

"Did someone not program you properly today? I. hate. you."

"That can't be. We're dating."

Alfred groaned, leaning back in his chair to stair at the underside of the staircase. "Are you hard of hearing? Is that it?" He threaded his fingers together and placed them behind his head.

"Do you…" Ivan paused, frowning in deep thought, then said, "not want me to pick you up?"

"Hallelujah! And he sees the light!" Alfred threw up his hands, as if praising God.

"Then why do you enter my car?"

"Because if I didn't, we both know you'd drag me inside anyway," Alfred said. And, it saved on bus fare.

"What's your point?"

Alfred massaged the bridge of nose, taking a few deep breathes. "That you piss me off."

"You're lying greatly annoys me," Ivan said.

"I don't lie!" Alfred said, jerking a thumb at his chest. "I'm honest Abe." Ivan crossed his arm, lifting an eyebrow. "I don't!"

"If you truly did not like my attention, you'd be like my pets." A sadness entered his purple-hued eyes. In a grim tone, he continued, "They were my friends. Every day I showered them in love. I fed my goldfish after every hour, but he escaped to the afterlife. My sister insisted he was dead, but I suspect he was only floating upside down as a ruse.

And then there was my cat, Tolstoy. He lost a lot of fur getting through that hole he clawed in the wall. And my Siberian Husky, Vladamir. It was heartbreaking. My dear sister, Kat, mentioned the absurd idea that I 'smothered' them, but how is such a thing possible?

And my poor, poor _Polsolnechnik_."

Alfred couldn't resist asking, "What is a Poldo— whatever? Some kind of bear?"

"Nyet. He was my pet tarantula," Ivan said. "Sister is right. I should not have brought him to my second grade class. I feared he'd be lonely. But he escaped my backpack. Probably lonely in there."

"Wait… he escaped in your second grade class?" Ivan nodded. "In your class full of kids?" Ivan nodded again. "Oh God."

"He was such a beautiful Goliath Birdeater."

"Bird… eater?" Alfred squeaked.

"Da. He had a heart of gold," Ivan said, he held his hands a foot and a half apart. "As big and cute as a puppy. He only wanted to hug the teacher's head with his eight fuzzy feet, each as big as a finger. I didn't realize he'd climbed up on the bookshelf. There was no need for her and the other children to scream like that. They scared him," _They scared him?_ "She panicked trying to get him off and they fell out a window…she survived. And recovered by next year."

Alfred couldn't tell if Ivan was sad about the spider dying, the teacher surviving, or both. He closed his mouth when he realized it had fallen open during Ivan's reminiscing. He had an image of himself staring up at Ivan from the bottom of a deep hole while Ivan lowered a bucket to him and called, " _It puts the lotion on its skin_ '.

He resisted shuddering.

"You are fucked up. Not gonna lie," Alfred said. "Can you please sit elsewhere? I don't want die from being _smothered_."

Ivan giggled, as if Alfred had told a joke. "I must sit with my boyfriend. Otherwise," his expression and tone darkened, "people will get wrong ideas."

"Such as?"

"That you're available." Alfred glared at him. "Shall we move upstairs? It's private and we have a very good expresso machine."

"Fine," Alfred said, sounding put out as he grabbed his tray. "It better be good."

* * *

 **Question #1** — I split this chapter. Is it better to do faster, but shorter updates? Or is it better for longer updates that take longer? I can't decide.

* * *

 **Note # 1 -** Can you guess what the tarantula's name means? btw, Goliath Birdeater tarantula's are huge. The google images of them are scary enough to me.


	31. Liar, Liar Pt 2

**Note #1** — Happy Halloween. Remember, don't sleep or the clowns will eat you ;)

* * *

 **Liar, Liar Pt. 2**

* * *

"Dear Lord," Alfred said, holding up the tiny cup he had just sipped from and wiping a tear out of his eye. "Thank you for this fucking amazing cup of joe." He winked up at the ceiling and gave a thumbs up, as if directed at the Big Dude Himself.

Arms crossed and sitting on the other side of the round table, Antonio looked less than amused by Alfred's antics. " _Dios_ did not create your coffee. The top expresso machine in the world did."

 _"_ He made the coffee beans," Alfred said, taking another sip.

As Antonio opened his mouth to respond, Gilbert, who sat on Antonio's right interrupted, "No religious debates. It's too early and they piss me off."

He never looked up from the game of Angry Birds on his smart phone.

"It is not a religious d— _Dios Mio!"_ Antonio's words turned into a yelp and he sprang almost onto Gilbert. He pointed accusingly at Francis. "Keep your tentacles to yourself!"

Francis, casually patting at his lips with a lacy napkin, fluttered his long eyelashes, and innocently said, "Whatever do you mean, _Mon cheris_?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed. Although Francis looked like he had not reached under the table to grope Antonio, Alfred was pretty sure —given Antonio's red-face — that he had. Throwing Francis a scowl, Antonio pulled his chair over until it bumped against the side of Gilbert's.

He picked up the butter knife and waved it in warning to Francis who pouted.

"The beans came from Brazil, idiot," Gilbert said, attention remaining fixed on his phone screen. "And I've had better."

Francis sniffed at that, rolling his eyes. Antonio looked skeptical.

"They are delicious, I'll admit that. But dear sweet Paris is where heavenly coffee comes from ~" Francis said, frowning when Alfred and the others laughed at him. Puffing up his chest, he insisted, "It's true!"

"Why are you guys at school on time and _early?_ " Alfred asked, stuffing three pieces of crispy bacon in his mouth.

Francis' nose scrunched up in disgust.

Gilbert glanced up from his phone to exchange a look with Antonio, then all three gave a very accusing glare at Ivan who sat pressed up to Alfred's right shoulder — a barnacle that had attached itself — prim and proper in his school uniform. Only his scarf was improper. His happy smiled had not cracked since Alfred had given up on scooting his chair away from Ivan.

Ivan's smile widened, like a Chesire Cat. "Your adoration of me is flattering, but all I did was suggest you be more serious about school ~"

"S-suggest?" Antonio almost choked on the words as Gilbert barely avoided dropping his phone from surprise. Francis's mouth hung open.

"I take it he threatened you." They nodded.

Ivan chuckled softly, almost a girlish giggle. "They exaggerate. I never threaten people. I only encourage." His aura appeared to darken as he leaned forward, voice taking on an icy edge. "Is that not right?"

Francis blanched; Antonio swallowed hard; and Gilbert tried his best not to look intimidated.

"O-Oui, mon dieu." Francis' voice had a unmistakable stammer.

Antonio and Gilbert merely nodded.

Then Ivan leaned back in his seat and resumed his attempts to set his hand on Alfred's thigh who kept putting it back. This often resulted in him touching Ivan's thigh, and Ivan seemed disturbingly pleased by that. And then there was the game of footsie Ivan attempted to play under the table. He only seemed turned on by Alfred stamping on his foot when he invaded Alfred's personal space.

"As you see, I persuade," Ivan said cheerfully.

"Uh-huh. Hey, Gil, how'd he _persuade_ you," he made air quotes with his fingers for the word "persuade".

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Don't know what you mean. Nothing scares me," but he kept his gaze on his phone screen. In a low voice he muttered something about " _…make Gilbird a pet…_ "

"What was that?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing," Gilbert said, clearing his throat and focusing on his phone.

Alfred opened his mouth to respond when something sweet and warm was shoved into his mouth, muffling his mouth. He jumped in shocked, ripping the eclair out of his mouth as he stood up. Waving it at Ivan he snapped, "Don't stuff food in my face, asshole!"

"But you like donuts," Ivan said, confused.

"I don't want you ramming junk in my mouth!" He scowled over at Francis who for some reasons snickered. "What you like things being jammed in your throat?"

Francis' smile widened; he looked beyond amused, almost ready to explode with it.

"Oh, Francis loves stuff being shoved in his mouth," Gilbert said, tossing Alfred a wink.

"You guys are weird. And you…" Alfred rounded on Ivan, slapping the eclair back on his plate. "I can feed myself."

"But couples feed each other. It's romantic."

"No, they don't!"

Francis cleared his throat. "Actually, mon l—."

"Stay out of this!" Alfred warned and Francis closed his mouth, but did not look pleased. He sniffed loudly, muttering, "Rude Americans."

"If you ever do that again, I'll shove that," he pointed at the eclair, "up your ass!" The whole Bad Touch Trio snorted loudly with laughter. Ivan looked oddly intrigued. "Shut up! What is wrong with you guys? How can you find that kinky? What freaky porn do you watch?"

They went quiet. A blush dusted Gilbert's pale cheeks and he stared very intently at his phone. Antonio leaned forward, while pointing at Gilbert, said. "He insists he's never looked, but his brother has the kinkiest tastes ever. Whips, chains, handcuffs and a —."

Gilbert smashed a fist on the table, rattling the tableware. "One more word and you'll be eating this fork."

Antonio quickly quieted, but continued to give Alfred a couple "wink, wink".

"New topic!" Gilbert said. "We're going to an awesome boxing match this Friday night. My father can get us VIP tickets."

"Pass," Francis said. "That's my exfoliating and massage day." He patted at his soft locks.

Alfred perked up. Boxing. A real life boxing match? "Between who?"

"The Turkish Bear and the King of Scandinavia!"

"The King of Scandinavia! I love that guy!" Alfred blurted out, face splitting in a wide grin. He ignored Ivan's frown when Alfred said 'I love that guy!'.

"It would be a wonderful date ~" Ivan said and Alfred froze.

He stifled a shudder and sat down.

"Ah, you all enjoy the strangest of porn," Francis said, sipping his expresso.

Everyone quieted and turned to stare at Francis. It was Gilbert who spoke first. "Since when is boxing porn?"

"Two men in boxers prancing around the arena. Bodies glistening in sweat as they pound at each other. How is that not lewd?"

"You see lewd in everything," Antonio said.

"I see romance in everything," Francis said. "I see lewd in what is lewd."

"He has a point," Ivan said. Everyone, even Francis, looked over in surprise. "It is very enjoyable the men breaking their noses and bones. The blood splattering. The way they beat each other until they're both hospitalized."

Alfred silently agreed with every word, but said, "That's messed up."

 _And an excellent point_.

The other three looked aghast. Francis cleared his throat and said, "The beating part is…" Ivan gave him a level look, "never mind."

Now Alfred had an image of him and Ivan in a boxing arena. He squirmed in his seat, warming up at his fantasy. At the image of their exposed upper torso glistening in sweat. Gloved fists swirling in front of them like round globes floating in the air as they circled.

Pounding hard at each other before an audience made of chocolate milk shakes and hamburgers.

He quickly finished his expresso. He stiffened, snatching Ivan's hand off his thigh, afraid the man might notice how stiff Alfred was getting. This was bad. Very bad. He quickly shifted his mind to unpleasant things like tea and burnt scones. Ah, that did it. He started to calm down.

"What are you thinking about?" Ivan asked.

Alfred stopped himself from blurting out, _Hamburger boxing porn!_

In his scramble not to say that, he said, "You." There were audible gasps from around the table and Ivan lit up like a Christmas Tree. Quickly, a blushing Alfred added, "And how your face would feel being smashed by my fist."

Francis slumped in his seat, throwing up his hands. Ivan on the other hand looked touched, put a hand over his heart, and said, "What a sweet thing to say ~ I feel the same about you."

Francis bowed his head forward and put his face in his palms.

"Hands off," Alfred growled when Ivan leaned over as if to hug him. Ivan smiled wider and put his arm to rest on the top of the chair behind Alfred.

"What a delightful date ~ We're going," Ivan said.

"Like hell we are. Besides, Friday…" he frowned. _That's the modeling thing_. He couldn't tell Ivan that. "I have work."

"I can make arran—."

"Don't you fucking dare," Alfred warned. "If you talk to my boss or come anywhere near my work place we're over. And let me make another thing I'd rather give up hamburgers than go on a date with you." It must have been Alfred's imagination, but he thought a flicker of hurt appeared in Ivan's eyes. The man went rigid and his smile took on a very plastered-on-look. That was a crazy thought. Ivan didn't feel pain like normal people. "I'll contact you when I want go on a date."

There was a long pause, neither breaking eye contact. For some reason Alfred felt a strange sense of regret. Had he gone too far? He had agreed to this relationship. Why wouldn't Ivan think they would go on dates?

But Ivan smiled wider and rose up slowly, coming to tower over Alfred. Somehow he had forgotten how tall the man was. He refused to back away as Ivan leaned in and, in a low whisper said, " _When_?"

There was something very threatening in that tone and Alfred found himself saying, "Uh… S-Sunday." Then he frowned. How dare his mouth blurt that out!

Ivan relaxed and straightened up. "Very well. I'll make arrangements."

Then, without attempting to kiss or hug Alfred, he walked off very stiffly. His shoulders had a slumped look, but his face wore a smile. Alfred shook his head, unable to believe he had any kind of real emotional effect on him. He was nothing but a toy to Ivan.

When he turned back, he jumped to see how intensely Antonio and Francis were staring at him. "Wh-what?"

Francis pressed his lips together tightly and sniffed. Antonio only shook his head sadly. "You are very clueless," Francis said, waving his hands in the air. "Take it from I, god of _amour."_

"Relationships are dumb," Gilbert grumbled, continuing to focus on his games. "Fuck 'em and leave. That's how you do it."

Francis sniffed loudly.

"What do you know about relationships?" Gilbert asked, tossing his phone on the table. "You've never stayed with anyone for more than a few months."

"I've loved someone," Francis said in a serious tone. He turned to Alfred. "Don't take other's feelings for granted and assume they'll never stop chasing. The heart can only take so much."

"I'd be happy if Ivan stopped pestering me," Alfred said, standing up. He scooped up his bag.

"Would you?" Francis asked, staring from over the rim of his porcelain cup. "Would you really be happy if Ivan looked at you as dirt?"

"I could care less," Alfred said. "Bye."

He ignored Francis's sniff of "rude American".

A crowbar could not pry Ivan off. The man had attached himself. Alfred squeezed the strap of his backpack, feeling a strange uneasiness. Everything would be all right.

Even if Ivan turned his back on Alfred, it would just be prove that he had never been serious. Alfred soon lost himself in a fantasy of becoming a superstar heart throb. This modeling gig could be his big break.

Maybe he could even be equal to Ivan one day.

Of course, he would have to lie to Matthew. Something he didn't look forward to. But, as they say, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

* * *

 **TBC** in… " **Shoot Me** "

The photographer is some weird cross-dresser from Poland?

* * *

 **Note # 1 —** Ugh… this chapter was tough to write. And the next will be as well. But after we get through this, things will pick up steam again.

Have a Happy Halloween.


	32. Shoot Me Pt 1

**Note # 1** We have about 15 chapters left to finish this story. Thank you so much for your comments and support. I need to get caught up on acknowledgements. I also have a tumblr now at "It'snotnihonbara" if you ever want to ask questions or share something with me there.

* * *

 **Shoot Me**

* * *

 _"Mattie, please, please! Please with a cherry on top and maple syrup all over!" Alfred begged into the receiver of the receptionist's phone. She had been kind enough to let him use it, and he called his brother's cheap, crappy phone. "I'll pay you back for sure!"_

 _"You already owe me. Do you know how much debt you're in to me?" Matthew asked tersely, but Alfred could tell that Matthew was giving in._

 _"Yeah, yeah. You get my first born son," Alfred said, twirling the phone cord around his finger._

 _"At this rate I'm gonna own your soul," Matthew muttered._

 _"So you'll do it?"_

 _"I hate you."_

 _"You're the best brother evah!"_

 _"Drown in maple."_

 _Then there had been a dial tone._

 _"Hello?" Alfred said a few times before he realized Matthew had hung up. Nevertheless, he had succeeded. "Best sidekick ever!"_

 _His joy was short lived as he realized he had lied to Matthew to get him to lie to their parents about why Alfred would be home late._

"Five-o-two," he said aloud, reading the numbers on the four-to six story brick buildings. "Five-o-three. Creepy alley. Five-o-five. Wait…"

He halted, frowning. After glancing several times between the piece of notebook paper he had jotted the address on and the building number, he backed up to 503, not bothering to turn around. He just walked backwards which earned him a raised eyebrow from an old woman walking by on her cane.

Where was 504?

Was this like platform 9 3/4 or something?

He peered into the grimy, trash-strewn alley that smelled like barf, past two blue dumper bins and a rat nibbling on the remnants of a discarded hot dog, to a large metal door with a keypad and small speaker above it. Squinting, he crept closer to see through the late evening shadows and then he saw it clear as day.

504 was posted in brass numbers above the door.

"You kidding me…" He half considered leaving, but decided that would be rude. He was expected. After hopping over a couple foul-smelling, yellowish puddles and sidling past that rat that glared at him, he climbed up the two concrete steps to the door.

Pressing the white button, ignoring its sticky feel, Alfred glanced up at the barred windows above as it the buzzer ran. When no one answered, he rang again. Just as he was about to shout up, a scratchy static sound came followed by a syrupy, feminine voice who said, "Hello, hello? If this is another salesperson I'm not interested! And no, I have not found Jesus, Buddha, or any other deity you're pushing! Try looking on a milk carton! Thank you and good day!"

Alfred frowned and then buzzed again.

"Hello?" the voice sounded annoyed.

"This is Alfred Jones. I'm supposed t—."

"Alfred?" she interrupted. "Oh, Alfie!" _Alfie?_ "My new model! Yes, yes, come up, sweetie! Sorry about that!"

 _Sweetie?_

There was a buzz, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. After turning the handle, he pulled open the heavy door and peered inside. Light from outside faintly showed racks of costumes, boxes of what appeared to be theatre equipment, and several mannequins.

"Hello?" he called into the dark room, surprised when his voice echoed. It had to be a high ceiling.

Tempted to leave because he hated mannequins (easy for ghosts to possess), he forced himself to step inside onto the green colored concrete. There was the sound of elevator doors opening in the back followed by large fluorescent lights turning on overhead, starting from the back. Soon the room was lit up to reveal aisles of costumes of every sorts, wigs, and boxes of masks and props, and mannequins either naked or partly dressed and shelves with bins for buttons and stuff to repair costumes or props.

Alfred salivated at the thought of raiding this place for the perfect Halloween costume. He wondered if they had any Batman suits?

"Wow," Alfred said in awe. Was this some kind of storage facility for movie sets? Overhead ventilation shafts stretched across the ceiling.

"Darling, over here!" called that woman from the intercom. He heard her heels clicking loudly as she approached. "You're like super early. I love that kind of energy!"

"Thanks?" Alfred said, shutting the door behind him. He had left Tony locked on a bike rack at a supermarket a block away. He adjusted his backpack. "I'm here to meet with Felix."

What was his last name?

Alfred fumbled in his jeans for the scrap of paper, but froze when a figure in a pinstripe green pant suit and capelet appeared a few feet away. One who flourished his hands and flicked his blond hair over his shoulder. "Ta-da ~ Here I am! My, my. Aren't you handsome!"

It took Alfred a moment to realize that voice belonged to this _guy_ , and so did the heels. The man wore red heels. Planting a fist on to his side, Felix eyed Alfred up and down.

"Nice to…meet… you…" Alfred managed, gaping at Felix.

"Likewise. Call me Felix. I hate formal titles," Felix said, tucking his hair behind his ear. "Dear me. Are you trying to break the stereotype that gay men have good fashion sense?"

"Huh…" It took Alfred a moment to process that and realize he had been insulted. "My fashion sense is fine!" Then it hit what else Felix had said. "Who to you — I mean. I'm not gay." He looked away, pretending to be fascinated by Ghost costume.

"Ah, one of those," Felix said knowingly.

"What do you mean 'one of those'?"

Felix sauntered over, stopping in front of Alfred. "One of those gay men who claims things like 'I'm only a little gay'. The shy-and-confused-about-sex-type. The kind that bolts at the slightest physical contact with a man he's attracted to, not because he didn't enjoy it, but because he _enjoyed_ it too much. Too much to be just a 'little gay'. The puritan type who does everything he can to not 'seem' gay. Usually won't even give a chaste kiss until you're practically engaged. Yes, I know you're type. My first crush was like that. He put my heart through a meat grinder."

Alfred jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. Waves of embarrassment and anger rushed over him. Who was this guy to analyze him? "You don't me!" he exploded. "I'm not a puritan-whatever! You don't know what you're talking about."

"That face!" Felix said in delight, grabbing Alfred by the jaw. "Beautiful!"

Alfred swatted his hand away, rubbing his jaw. "What's your problem?"

Eduard had introduced him to a crazy man.

"No problem," Felix said, eyeing up Alfred. "You're angry face is gorgeous. Any man who pursues you will probably want to piss you off all the time just to see that lovely visage."

"Huh? Dude, I think I made a mistake. Sorry to bother you," Alfred said, turning to leave when Felix caught him by the shoulder.

"Eddie was right! You're a natural model. That perfect jaw. Golden locks. Where were you for my ripped farm boy's photo shoot?"

"Thanks. Bye," Alfred grabbed the handle.

"You'll be a star."

Alfred stopped, slowly facing Felixs diamond-shaped face. "You really think so? Me?"

"I know so. I need that fierce, feral look you get when you're angry. Darling, it's totally perfect."

"Really?" Alfred let go of the handle; his face split in a grin. "Mattie never believed me, but I just knew I had it in me."

"Sorry for being rough on you earlier," Felix said, hooking an arm through Alfred's. "You'd think having a front door in like a dirty alley would deter salespeople, and you'd be wrong. Not even Nibbler can hold them off."

"Nibbler?"

"The rat. I always toss him a few hot dogs."

"You feed him? Dude, he's the size of a small dog. And he's mean."

"Oh, you exaggerate. Nibbler probably thought you were here to sale me something or convert me. By the way, do you have contacts?"

"Y-yeah. In my bag."

"Good. Put them on."

"But I like Tex— I mean my glasses."

"They can't be in the shoot. Totes sorry about that," Felix said sweetly. "That vapid look won't do. Guess I'll have to totally tick you off. This way ~"

"Say what?" Alfred said, dragged along.

* * *

"This outfit is too small," Alfred called from the changing room. He had been led in here after signing some paperwork.

"No, it's your size. The fabric stretches."

"Uh… that can't be right. It clings everywhere. What kind of business suit is this? And… what the hell?" he blushed mad to realize that the suit made him look so well endowed that he had an erection. "I look hard in it."

Felix coughed. "Are you hard? Do you need some tissues?"

"No!" Alfred snapped. "I'm not… it's the suit!" He patted the front. "Why is stuffed there? I look like I have a boner."

"That can't be right. Let me see."

"Don't!" It was too late. He covered his crotch at Felix threw open the red curtain, revealing the rest of the room with its steel rack for wheeling around costumes and its vanity with mirror and seat.

"Don't be a shy puritan ~" Felix teased.

Alfred grunted, but slowly removed his hands. A blush spread all over his face.

"That's… oh," Felix reached over and grabbed the coat hanger the suit had coming hanging on and stared at the receipt. "My assistant, Lauren, screwed up. She pulled out one of the suits we use for our super popular sexy businessmen calendar."

"Well, where's the correct one?"

"It'd take too long to find it and pull it out. Without my assistant — no," he shook his head. "I can work with this. We'll just have that part of you hidden in certain shots."

"What kind of things do you shoot here?" Alfred asked.

Felix smiled at him. "Oh, the tawdry things we film. We have a red room full of bondage equipment." Alfred swallowed hard, feeling himself pale. "Kidding. I'm kidding. Sexy sells in this industry. It'll be fine. Do you want to be stuck here for another two hours?"

"No…"

"Then let's just make do," Felix said with a wink. "Now have a seat so I can slick back that hair and give you a make-over. You look sizzling in that suit."

"I don't wear make-up. Except on Halloween for costumes and for year book photos when my dad insists."

"Oh, Alfie." Felix pulled out his compact as Alfred backed into the corner. "There is no escape from my makeover."

* * *

Alfred had been transformed. He grinned at his reflection, even giving himself a thumbs-up. His cowlick remained defiantly standing while the hair gel had bent the rest down.

"Sweetie, make out with yourself later" Felix called from the hallway. "We have work to do. Chop, chop."

"Right." He paused to smile at him an quoted one of his favorite TV shows. "I am ruggedly handsome, aren't I?"

Then he followed Felix down the tiled hallway of the upstairs area to a room set up with a grey backdrop, lighting equipment, reflectors and another person standing near what looked like a table for a conference room. This man was dressed in a very tight, leather biker outfit.

"He's here!" Felix called.

The other man turned, patting his riding crop against his palm. The front was open to reveal a lean, muscular chest. He had deep eyeliner on and his dark hair was slicked back. Alfred hated to admit the man was smoking hot and… familiar.

Then it hit Alfred like a hammer.

"E-Eduard?"

"Yes, Mr. Jones. I look forward to working with you on today's shoot," Eduard said, slapping the riding crop hard enough against his palm to make a smacking noise. "I hope you can handle your first time."

Alfred swallowed hard.

* * *

 **TBC** in " **Shoot Me Pt. 2** "

Remember, Alfred. Stay professional no matter what.

* * *

 **Note #** 1 Sorry if I got Felix out of character. I'm not used to writing him. Hope he works.


	33. Shoot Me, Pt 2

**Note # 1 —**

Sparkly eyes? Mochi references? Blogging? Can I fit anymore of Estonia's Hetalia canon stuff in here? See if you can catch 'em all.

Thank you everyone for supporting this story. This is the last difficult chapter! I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I gave it my all. Sometimes you just have to push through a chapter to get to the parts of the story that you want to write.

 **Note #2 -** Thank you for all the wonderful comments. I will get to another round of acknowledgements in a chapter or two. You all keep this story going. I'm just the wheel. The fans are the ones who turn it. Thank you! :)

* * *

 **Shoot Me Pt. 2**

* * *

After realizing a light fixture had a burnt-out bulb, Felix ran off to find a replacement. Alfred hardly noticed, trying his best not to stare at Eduard. Turned out his very best wasn't good.

With a heavy sigh, Eduard tossed his android phone on the dark conference table he leaned against and turned to Alfred who tensed when Eduard used the end of his riding crop to press upward on Alfred's chin, forcing Alfred to close his mouth. He blushed, not realizing it had been hanging open.

"Trying to swallow flies?" Eduard asked.

Shaking his head, Alfred stepped away.

"No offense, dude… I mean Boss-Guy, but you kinda look like Negan. Well, except for the heavy eyeliner and sparkly gold glitter around your eyes."

"Who?"

Alfred gave a strangled gasped. "Have you been leaving in a cave? Walking Dead." Eduard raised an eyebrow, one that had been died dark brown to match his hair. "I give up. Why are you dressed like that? What kind of photo shoot is this?"

Eduard massaged his brow and squinted as he stared at Alfred, as if he had trouble seeing him. He also started more at Alfred's forehead then his eyes. Did he have poor eyesight without his glasses?

"Aw, why ruin the surprise?" Eduard answered cooly.

In the black leather jacket he had quite broad shoulders, suggesting a stronger build than his more nerdy demeanor had suggested. He had definite biceps.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked.

Eduard fumbled for his phone and accidentally grabbed in the wrong area first before he found it. He held it close to his eyes, squinting at the screen which killed the "badass" look quite a bit.

"Nothing is going on." Eduard reached into his pocket and pulled out some black sunglasses and slipped them on.

"Wow, now you're look like a blind Negan," Alfred said. "A blind Negan with riding crop." Alfred shuddered. "That's just wrong, man."

"I'm not blind. I just have poor eyesight and these contacts aren't strong enough." He waved Alfred over. "Can you help me? What's this say? The writing is so tiny."

Alfred came over and peeked down at the screen. "It's asking you to update your insta— wait, you have an instagram?"

"Why are you surprised? We're not that different in age. I'm hip," he said.

"Man, I thought I had poor vision. Then again Mattie's has worse," Alfred said with a grin. "Press this one for no."

"Ah, thank you."

After Eduard hit the button, a mosaic of what appeared to be white fluffy sausage-shaped creatures with faces appeared. They were filmed at different angles and with different backgrounds and props. A lot looked like they had been photographed professionally. His instagram had over a million followers and was titled _EstoniaLovesMochi_.

"What the hell are those? They look like marshmallow sausages." Which sounded tasty to Alfred. He made a note in his head to write that down in his notebook of _Brilliant Ideas_.

"They're my mochi," Eduard said absent-mindedly. He clicked on one, blowing up the photo. "This is the Italy one. And this is Denmark. He came with a cute ax. And this one is Russia."

"Oh, scary looking," Alfred said. "They're a collection."

"Sort of." Eduard shrugged. "I purchased the first on ebay and then I just couldn't stop. I was stuck in the hospital for a while some time ago. They comforted me. I couldn't stop adopting them. Now they live in my house."

"Uh… I see. Live?" Alfred quirked an eyebrow.

"Maybe not _live live_ , but they are my friends," he said. "They're easy to understand and you can trust them. Unlike people." That last word he almost spat. A cloud seemed to briefly contort his features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "They have robotic parts and respond to sound. They can smile and frown. They were invented in Japan."

"They look weird."

"You know…" Eduard stared at Alfred. "You remind me of Mochi America. It's funny."

He scrolled through and blew up a picture of a mochi with blue eyes, glasses and a little curl on his forehead.

"I'm way better looking than that. Hey, who's that?" He pointed at the one next to him. They both sat in front of a grey background. Both had flags draped behind them, the America had a US flag, but the other had one Alfred couldn't recognize. A white flag with a red maple leaf on the front. Which country did that belong to? "The one with glasses and purple eyes."

"Oh, I always forget about him," Eduard noted. "It happens to a lot of Mochi collectors. He came with the American one. A kind of two-for-one deal. I think they're supposed to be like twins. But I really want to get the Fairy King of Mochi one day."

"The what?"

Eduard stared toward the ceiling, eyes shining with a sudden light of yearning. "The rarest one of them all. I had a dream once where he came to me. I had him him in my grasp. Then I woke up." His shoulders slumped. The zealot light faded from his eyes. "He will be mine. I like to get my way."

Alfred resisted stepping further away. There was something off about Eduard. He came across as cool and detached.

They were interrupted by the return of Felix who said, "All right! Let's get to work, my lovelies ~"

* * *

"Oh, that's it! Work it! You're totally gifted at this!" Felix said, snapping photo after photo as Alfred shifted his position.

Eduard watched, booted feet on the table, leaned back in one of the chairs in the conference room while Alfred stood at the podium serenading them with all his brilliant ideas. Felix encouraged him as Eduard watched with a small, half smile.

"You're brilliant at this!" Eduard said.

"We will use rap signals to communicate with UFOs," Alfred said, widening his best grin. "Nothing like Kanye West to send the right message!"

Felix and Eduard chuckled, as if they thought Alfred was joking.

"Like great work," Felix said, straightening up.

"But… I wasn't done. You didn't hear about my Hamburger Catapult or my new Olympic Sport — the donut eating contest!"

Felix laughed. "Good one ~" And turned his back.

"But…"

"Sit here," Felix said, pulling out the chair across from Eduard. He fiddled with the setting on his camera and lens.

Alfred stepped down from the podium and sat down. "Now what?"

"Stare in shock at Eduard."

"Wh-wh y — holy hell!" Alfred gaped as Eduard hoisted himself up on the table and laid across it, propping his chin on his first and pressing his riding crop against the top button of Alfred's shirt. Blushing, Alfred scooted back. "What kind of photo shoot is this?"

"It's for our LGTB advertising campaign."

"Wait… what?" Alfred felt his mouth fall open. He batted away Eduard's riding crop. "Whyyyyyy?"

"We're launching a glassware line catered to more uncanny tastes," Eduard said with a wink.

"By showing Negan makes a move on a business guy?" Alfred asked.

Felix harrumphed. "Not at all. You're the business guy full of stupid ideas," Alfred gasped at that, "and he's the deviant come to shatter the business world. It'll look better with the special effects."

"Oh… but my ideas are not stupid ."

They both looked at him flatly.

Then Eduard playfully slapped him with the riding crop and said, "Naughty boy. I'm here to _break_ you."

Alfred was flabbergasted. He heard Felix snapping photos left and right going, "Perfect! That's _exactly_ the expression I want! Keep making that face! Eduard hit him again!"

" _What?"_ Alfred yelped before Eduard did so.

* * *

Rubbing his jaw, a less than pleased Alfred was back in his normal clothing. He left the dressing room and marched straight to Felix who sat in front of a computer in a corner of the studio, studying the photos. "Where is the Boss-Guy?"

"Oh, he left. He had errands to do," Felix said. "He wanted me to tell you goodbye."

"That… I can't believe…" Alfred huffed, hands curling into fists. He went red just from the memory. "No one told me it would be like this!"

"Are you upset?" Felix looked over. "You shouldn't be. You were wonderful. Your eyes are so expressive, especially when you're upset. They sparkle! Look."

He scooted aside and Alfred stared at _himself_ in astonishment. The lighting and energy of his photos were magnetic.

"Is that really me?" He gaped.

Felix nodded. "It's rare to see an inexperienced model with so much energy. You're a natural."

"Really? You're not just saying that," Alfred rubbed at his nape, grinning in embarrassment.

"Not at all. With practice you could be the best. In fact, I'm going to meet with some of my fellow photographers. We're going to a club if you'd like to join. It could be a great opportunity for you. They could launch your career."

"Career? Ah, I'm still busy with school. I'm not even eighteen."

"Models start their careers younger than that," Felix said. "It's your choice."

"But how do I get in?"

"I can get you in." Felix winked. "But no alcohol."

"I can live with that. Maybe… just an hour or so," Alfred said.

"You won't regret this," Felix said. "I'll get my stuff and we'll head over. It's only a couple blocks from here."

"I don't have anything to wear," Alfred fiddled with his jacket.

"We can find you a costume here," Felix said.

"Batman?" Alfred livened up.

"This isn't Halloween."

"Superman then?"

Felix sighed. "Something with dignity. C'mon."

* * *

 **Note #1** — Finally! YES! YES! Updates should come faster. The writer-block-chapters are over. These past 2-3 chapters were slow to write. The next gets into the meat of the story and one of the more crucial scenes in the Manga's and TV series' canons. No more fluffing around. Time to get serious.

* * *

TBC… in **Club Mochi**

This club is packed and Alfred tries to have fun, but something isn't right. What happens next is a night he won't remember…


	34. Club Mochi

**Club Mochi**

* * *

A Snoop Dogg song boomed overhead. Down on the dance floor hundreds of scantily-clad, sweaty people gyrated and ground against one another under neon lights and disco balls. Most were men — this was a gay club.

From his perch on a stool, Alfred felt like an astronaut peering down at an alien world from the window his space ship. There was even a man dressed as a green alien, the kind that liked tight leather and ass-less chaps.

Alfred leaned further over the railing as he continued to suck coca-cola up through the red straw in his glass. This one was almost empty, just ice cubes now, but he had another full glass waiting on the table.

Several people had on costumes. Or that's what Alfred thought they were. Most of them left little to the imagination. It rankled Alfred that Felix had not let him dress as the Caped Crusader. From what he saw the spandex would have blended in just fine. Instead he had on a breezy white, button-down shirt and grey slacks and, of course, his bomber jacket. He refused to part with it.

His breathe caught, gaze settling on a muscular man dressed in nothing but an American Flag speedo, white Stetson hat and cowboy boots. The _Cowboy,_ as Alfred decided to call him, even seemed to have a Sheriff Star sticker plastered above his right peck and a belt with two holsters and very fake-looking, silver pistols sagged on his hips.

A tantalizing image popped in his head of Ivan dressed like the Cowboy, of Ivan lassoing Alfred. He swallowed hard, mouth dry. His grip tightened on his drink. It was too good.

He could almost imagine Ivan shouting out "Yee-haw. Ride me, cowboy".

A pang of guilt dimmed Alfred's mood as he thought of Ivan. For some reason he wished he was here. Shaking his head, he dismissed the crazy notion. He in no way wanted Ivan here. That was absurd. Insane.

Glancing back at the Cowboy, he was shocked to see the man grinning up at Alfred. The Cowboy aimed his forefinger like his hand was a revolver and pretended to fire at Alfred using his thumb as the hammer as he winked.

A blushing Alfred backed out of sight, sucking hard on what was nothing but a little coke and melted water. He moved his straw to his full glass. Then he peeked back over the steel railing, frowning when he saw no sign of the Cowboy.

Where had he gone?

Off in the corner, he glimpsed Felix and his photographer friends dancing near the DJ. When he first arrived, there had been a friendly round of introductions and a lot of compliments showered on Alfred as they agreed he had real potential as a model. Alfred had felt it was his heroic duty to be the one who stayed behind and guarded their table and drinks while the others went to dance.

"Hello, handsome. Saw you from the dance floor," said a baritone voice in his ear. Alfred gasped and whipped around so fast he bumped the table and nearly toppled off the stool.

A strong hand caught his shoulder and the other caught the hand holding his drink before he could spill it. They steadied him and let go. His face burned as he took in the chiseled-featured face of the Cowboy. The man had a cleft in his chin and soft brown eyes, the kind you could get lost in.

"The name's Keet. What's yours?"

 _Do not stare at his six pack. Do not stare his six pack._ Too late. _Fine, don't keep staring at his six pack. No, bad Alfred, do not check out his biceps!_ Alfred licked his lips, they had become so dry.

His voice cracked, almost squeaking, as he said, "Al-Alfred."

If Ivan were here, Keet would likely be in serious danger. Alfred knew he was not hiding his lust well. This man was Adonis made flesh.

"I heard there was a troublemaker in town," Keet said, slurring his words in cowboy-accident.

"Come to arrest me?"

"Maybe. How about I buy you a drink first?" He leaned forward and placed a hand on Alfred's knee, squeezing.

Alfred gasped, standing up and Keet let go.

"No thanks. I'm leaving soon."

"That's a pity. I'm gonna go for broke." Keet pushed deeper into Alfred's personal space, pushing him against the railing until he they were in kissing distance. He had very long eyelashes. "If you come to the restroom, I'll show you what my mouth can do."

He waggled his tongue, licking the tip of a rigid Alfred's nose. Alfred gulped hard, mind racing. When Alfred didn't respond, Keet pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss that turned steamy fast. He ground his crotch and length against a stunned Alfred.

Alfred felt on fire and a small moan escaped his lips.

Regaining his senses, he shoved Keet back, panting from the heat of that kiss. "I can't," he said. "I'm… I'm seeing someone."

 _Who'd likely murder you if he saw what happened._

"Me too." Keet shrugged. "It's not cheating if you don't penetrate."

"I'd disagree. And my boyfriend thinks hugging is cheating."

"Sounds like an asshole."

Alfred frowned. That killed the mood.

"What do you know?" Alfred said in rising anger. "You don't him. You know what. Buzz off. I'm not interested."

"Fine. Who wants to play with some puritanical virgin," Keet sneered. "Bet you'd be about as fun as fucking mud."

"I guess you'd know because that's the only thing that'd want to fuck you," Alfred retorted.

"Fuck you, jackass," Keet said, throwing Alfred the middle finger as he felt.

Alfred watched Keet saunter off and disappear into the crowds as he took another gulp through his drink. He frowned, wondering why his coke tasted a little salty. Was it the melted ice? Maybe they hadn't changed out the syrup bags.

While waiting for Felix to return, Alfred noticed his vision beginning to double a bit. He set down his drink and massaged his temple. He felt light-headed and short of breath.

 _I'm sleepy_ , he decided, but something didn't feel right.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, feeling an urge to puke. One so strong it couldn't wait. Suddenly, he bolted for the restroom, swaying and stumbling into people who snapped at him, "Watch where you're going!"

Their words seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. His muscled were going lax and it became harder to breathe. He felt his way along the narrow hallway to the restrooms, past the staircase, and slumped in a corner. His legs didn't seem able to hold him up anymore.

Fright coursed in him. Had he been drugged?

He wanted Matthew here. He wanted Ivan. He wished he had gone with Ivan.

"Hey cutie," a voice said above.

He stared up, only seeing two blurred faces staring down at him.

"Help…" he managed, tongue feeling cottony and bloated in his mouth.

"Sure, we'll help," the other one chuckled darkly.

Then rough fingers grabbed Alfred and hoisted him up.

"Ivan…" he moaned.

 _I wish Ivan was here_ , was his last thought before he succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

 **TBC** in … **The Morning After**

The evidence is clear.


	35. The Morning After

**Note # 1 —** Wooow. 500 reviews on this story! Thank you so much! I'll post acknowledgements at the end of the next update.

* * *

 **The Morning After**

* * *

They _chased_. He ran. It was instinctual.

 _Heroes don't run_ , some part of Alfred cried.

He dared not stop. Terror forced his bare feet faster across cold tiles. Darkness surrounded him, the floor glowing with an eerie red light. Behind him, his pursuers gnashed their teeth and howled foul promises to "savor his sweet flesh". When their clawed fingers raked against his back, it was disturbingly sensual touch.

Suddenly, his foot snagged on a root and he flew forward, leaving skin and cloth behind as he skidded across the stone. "No! No!" he yelled, trying to crawl away.

They pinned him down and flipped him onto his back, dozens of hands and teeth tore off his clothes and exposed him. Alfred curled into a fetal position, but they forced his limbs apart and held him down.

For some reason the ground felt soft, like a bed.

He bucked and writhed, trying to break free as tongues licked as his skin and teeth bit marks there. They marked him all over, as if nibbling on a piece of candy.

"Let go! I'll kill you!" he roared in rage. He wanted them to stop, yet they only laughed and took what they wanted.

He wailed, a prisoner in his own mind.

* * *

"No!" Alfred gasped, jerking awake.

Bright light hurt his bleary eyes. His skull pounded with a splitting headache. He felt sick and ached all over. His throat was sore.

When he forced himself up, he stared around in shock and confusion at the hotel room of dark green carpeting, beige wallpaper and dark furbishing. On the left was window with the inner lacy curtains shut and in front of it stood a round table with a chair on either side. There was an ash tray with a a few smushed cigarette butts. To his right was the door to the room and a partly-opened door to the bathroom.

He reached down, heart pounding, and lifted the sheets. Alfred felt queasy. Hickeys covered his naked body from his inner thighs to his stomach and his chest.

He scrambled out of bed and retched into a round, black trash bin. After puking out his guts, he wiped his mouth and stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the lights. The yellow glow showed dark bags under his eyes and, to his relief, no hickeys on his throat.

After turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water on his face and tried to calm down. He gripped the edge of the sink, whispering, "You're fine. It'll be okay. You can get through this."

His mind scrambled for answers, but everything was blank after the club. Hours had disappeared.

Running a hand through his hair, he began to pace across the tiles of the bathroom floor, growing angrier and angrier by the moment. "Son of a bitch!" he cried, punching his fist in the wall hard enough to leave a dent. He ignored the pain of his bruised knuckles. Chips of dry wall fell from the top of his hand.

His mouth fell open and heart froze when his eyes caught on something beneath the edge of the bed: a used condom. He spun around and dry heaved into the toilet.

 _Mattie. I need Mattie!_

Trembling, Alfred stood up and flushed the toilet. Then he went around the room collection his clothing — surprised to find his wallet in his bomber jacket with all his money inside — and dressed himself.

He ran out, not bothering to check the room number. All he wanted was out of this nightmare.

* * *

Alfred did not bother going to get Tony or his duffel bag from Felix. He just wanted to go home and comfort himself with his favorite movies and food. He stopped to buy several hamburgers from McDs and a McFlurry — extra large.

When he unlocked the door, Matthew was there, foot tapping and arms crossed, glaring at Alfred from the kitchen.

"Not now," he said, shutting the door.

"Do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?" Matthew said. "Our dads are out right now looking for you! I lied for you! You couldn't have the decency to tell me you'd be gone all night."

"I…" Alfred couldn't say it. His face broke and he had to sit down at the kitchen table to keep from collapsing. He plopped his McD's down and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Mattie."

"Al?" the anger disappeared as Matthew pulled over a chair and patted his back. "Al, did something happen?"

Alfred nodded, not looking up. The tears refused to come, yet he had all the other symptoms of a sob.

He grabbed Matthew in a bear hug, pulling him close and placed his chin on his brother's shoulder. Matthew hugged Alfred back, sounding very worried as he spoke.

"Al, you smell…"

"I know. Will you… get me a coke?"

"Yeah. Of course."

* * *

Matthew had helped Alfred moved to their shared bedroom, change into his sleeping clothes and tucked Alfred into his bed. Alfred put his back to Matthew and stared at the wall. Then Matthew sat on the floor by Alfred's bed, quietly reading a hockey magazine until his brother was ready.

It took nearly an hour before Alfred sat and up and said, "Mattie, how do you know if you've had anal sex?"

Matthew, in the middle of drinking from a box of grape juice, nearly choked on it as he turned around wide-eyed to Alfred. His face went beat-red. "Wh-why are you asking that?" He stood up, dropping the glossy magazine. "Al, what happened to you?"

Alfred grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slipped it off. "I don't know, but I have a good idea," he said grimly.

Matthew stared at the hickeys.

"What do you… what are you saying?"

"I went to a club, and I think someone drugged me," Alfred said.

With a hard swallow, Matthew sat down heavily. "And… and… they…"

"Don't say it," Alfred said. Say it and somehow became more real. "I don't think they… er… did that."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know hurt… _there_ ," he said. "It's supposed to hurt. The first time." He looked away, face feeling on fire.

"Well, they did something!" Matthew said, hands balling into fists. "Did they leave any clues? Tell me everything!"

* * *

Alfred put his shirt back on and went through his story, leaving out the Eduard part since it wasn't that man's fault he got drugged and he didn't want Matthew to know about that part, speaking of everything as if it happened to someone else.

As he continued, Matthew's face, normally pale, took on shades of anger-red. His lips pressed together and that violent look he got before a hockey game peeked out, mixed with layers of disgust. However, he only listened as Alfred told everything, even about the used condom.

"I'm going to that hotel!" Matthew declared, shooting to his feet. "No, first we go to the police."

"No!" Alfred said. "No cops."

"Al!"

"No!" Alfred said. "Besides, I wasn't sodomized so maybe it's not that bad."

Matthew's mouth opened and shut several times, working. He seemed to be trying to find the right words and finally exploded. "NOT THAT BAD? Are you nuts? You can't be serious, Al! It's very, very, very bad!"

"No cops!" Alfred said. "It was a mistake. I should have been more careful."

"What?" Matthew said, throwing up his hands. "Listen to yourself! You must be in shock! You can't be serious. This was a crime! It has to be reported."

"No, it doesn't. It's my crime. It's my body!" Alfred said, fixing his gaze on Matthew. "I can't do it. I'm sorry."

Mathew slowly wilted at that. "Would a hero leave criminals to roam free?"

"That's not fair and you know it," Alfred said. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Al."

"Promise me. Swear it!" Alfred said. "I'll never trust you again if you don't."

"But Al!"

"Mattie, it's not your secret to tell. It didn't happen to you."

Matthew looked taken aback. He stared grimly at Alfred and said, "I promise I won't tell. But I still think you should and I hope you realize that when you're feeling better."

"Thank you," Alfred said.

"What am I supposed to tell Tino? They're as livid as I've ever seen."

"I'll think of something. Can I rest for a bit?" Alfred asked.

"All right," Matthew said.

"Mattie," he said, throwing his cover over his head. "Can I ask another favor?"

"Yes."

"Could you get Tony and my duffel back from… a place?"

"I don't like where this is going."

"I… sort of did a modeling gig yesterday."

He heard the sound of Matthew slapping a palm to his forehead.

* * *

After Matthew left to get his stuff and pick up another McFlurry, Alfred lay there staring at his X-Files poster, arms behind his head.

Should he report what happened? He knew Matthew was right, but he couldn't. It had been hard enough to confess to Matthew what happened. Sitting in a room with officers and explaining that he had been underage in a club for gay men seemed like a bad idea. First, they'd wonder how he got in and then Felix would get in trouble too.

No, it would cause too much trouble. They might even arrest him. However, it made him sick that the men responsible would get away with it.

They had drugged and molested him.

Steadily, he was getting less and less angry about it. He felt almost dead to the memory, or lack of memories. If his mind were a house, then all the bad stuff got stored in a special storage room. One filled with objects such as a box of toy soldiers, an antique musket, Mattie's broken hockey stick, chunks of ice, a red coat, and more. Now hotels sheets and a used condom joined those bad memories.

Alfred's happy nature simply refused to let him stay unhappy for long. It wasn't suppression as Matthew thought, but just how Alfred was wired.

And now the door to that room was shutting.

A vibrating noise jolted Alfred. He sat up and leaned over the side of his bed, fumbling around for the source and found the phone Ivan had gave him — hooked on its charger.

He saw he had received a text from Ivan. Apparently he had received over a 100 in the past three days and most had been from last night. There were also over twenty missed calls. If Alfred kept ignoring them, why did Ivan keep sending.

His eyes blurred with what he sure was an allergic reaction to Ivan — no way it was tears.

Swiping left with his thumb, he opened Ivan's latest text and saw it was about tomorrow's date. Ivan had listed out detailed plans for Hetalia Funworld.

A tear plopped on the screen. Alfred scrubbed it away with his shirt and wiped at his eyes. How did Ivan know? Alfred always wanted to go, but his family could never afford to go.

He and Matthew used to keep all the free pamphlets and coupons, dreaming of going there.

Alfred typed a reply:

 _I'm sorry. I missed you_.

His thumb hovered over send, but he deleted the message.

 _If Ivan found out what happened…_

No, Alfred decided. Ivan would never find out because he was going to keep this secret. He had lied to Ivan. He had been awful. Now he felt dirty and Ivan could not see those hickeys. He could not know.

Finally, Alfred sent a reply:

 _I'll see you tomorrow. I'll wait at our spot at 9 am._

A date would make him feel better. Make him forget. What could go wrong?

* * *

 **TBC** in " **Destructive Lovers** "

Ivan and Alfred go on a date at Hetalia FunWorld Theme Park. Too bad they're hyper-competitive towards each other.

The staff remains baffled how Alfred got the Go Kart in the tree. And then there's the Whack'A'Mole incident. Hopefully, nothing goes wrong in the Haunted House Attraction…

* * *

 **Note #1 —** The next chapter has been a joy to write. Ivan and Alfred on a date?! Run for cover! No, seriously! Seek shelter before the sparks really do fly!

* * *

 **NOTICE TO STAFF**

Hetalia Funworld remains a magical place for children and adults of any age. We are devoted to the safety and satisfaction of our employees and loyal customers.

Due to this, we must make an unfortunate announcement regarding several of our attractions that were damaged in a sets of "incidents" on Sunday. The two individuals responsible are facing possible lifetimes bans and have agreed to refund all the costs of the damage. In the meantime, we are sad to inform staff and customers that several attractions will remain closed while our technicians assess and repair them. In one case, rebuild.

They are as follows: _Funtime Go Karts, Happy Bumper Boats, Spinning Bumper Cars, the Whirling Teacups, Happy Go Go Whack'A'Mole, Air Soft Shooting Fun, Funny Fun Carousal, Towering Fun Slide, the Ball Pen and The Funtime Horror House Attraction._

As always we remain committed to providing our customers with a magical and joyful experience. We are happy to refund any pre-purchased tickets and offer special discounts on days those rides remain closed for.

Thank you on behalf of Hetalia Funworld.

A place where dreams do come alive.

—- the management


	36. Destructive Lovers Part One

**Warning:** The following chapter requires the reader to where a hardhat and safety goggles for their own protection. Do not handle this chapter without the proper fireproof, electricity-resistant, and acid-proof gloves. Make sure all metal and sharp objects have been removed from your person. Please maintain a safe distance from Ivan and Alfred at all times, preferably three miles. Maybe the moon, or further…

* * *

 **Destructive Lovers (Pt. 1)**

* * *

Alfred watched from the window of Ivan's limousine as the trees outside went by in a blur. Ivan sat next to him, staring. He could see the man's reflection. First those violet-blue eyes stared the pint of Rocky Road that Alfred had barely touched, then crawled up to his face before going back to his spoon.

"Stop staring," Alfred ground out in a tight voice.

"Are you sad?" Ivan asked. He sounded almost concerned.

Alfred turned and looked at Ivan in surprise. Was the man learning to _notice_ others' feelings? Why now?

"I'm fine," Alfred said, forcing another spoonful of Rocky Road inside. The chocolate goodness could do nothing to wipe away the shame gnawing at his insides.

Matthew had calmed their parents down with his tactful diplomacy. However, he had not been thrilled with Alfred going on a date with Ivan after… everything.

Alfred wondered what Ivan would think if he found out. Even more, he hated that he cared what Ivan thought.

"You will have fun today. I made arrangements," Ivan said, leaning close enough for Alfred to feel the man's breathe on his cheek.

He pushed a palm against Ivan's chest and said, "Back off! You're invading my private territory."

"You will like my arrangements ~" Ivan insisted.

"That's like the hundredth time you've made that creepy promise."

"Nyet, it's the twenty-third. You can't count," Ivan laughed in that small giggle of his.

"I can count. You can't be normal," Alfred grumbled.

He blushed when Ivan grabbed his chin and forced his face to the window with a "Look, Fredya!"

"I told you not…" Alfred trailed off and then pushed the button to roll the window down. He stuck his head out, cold winds whipping his face and gaped across a large, empty parking lot at a seat of tents, buildings, and roller coast loops. "Oh good God! You didn't."

"I did."

Alfred popped back in and glanced from Ivan to the theme park to Ivan again in quick succession. Ivan beamed. He was startled when Alfred leaned close enough to kiss. With a grin, Alfred said excitedly," Hetalia Funworld! Dude, you're amazing!"

Ivan's whole expression changed. He blinked as if Alfred has said something unbelievable. As for Alfred he hardly noticed Ivan's increasingly pink face and stuck his head out the window again like a dog leaning out a window.

"Mattie's going to be so jealous! We've dreamed of going here since we were kids!" Alfred called, speaking more to himself than Ivan. "We used to cut out coupons and save our quarters!" He felt twelve again. His eyes raked over the colorful tents, buildings, and roller coaster loops. He had every attraction memorized by heart.

No sooner did the limo stopped than Alfred bound out and ran for the park like a kid being offered free access to the chocolate factory. Matthew used to joke that Alfred would be that kid in the Willy Wonka Movie who fell into the river of chocolate.

Yanking out his phone — the one Ivan gave — he snapped several grinning selfies with the theme park in the background. He ran back over to Ivan, gesturing erratically, pointing at the park. "We have to do the Rocket Boom first. Yeah, that's the biggest. And then Dueling Dragons! Oh, and Go Karts!" He grabbed Ivan's wrist, dragging the man along as he listed off rides and things to do.

Ivan remained strangely quiet, when Alfred turned back he was shocked to see Ivan had turned several shades of pink and just stared where Alfred held him. Realizing the situation, Alfred let go and backed up.

"You're as pink as cotton candy," Alfred blurted out. Then he brightened. "That's what we need! Cotton Candy. I didn't get a big breakfast."

"Cotton Candy?" Ivan tilted his head to the right, looking perplexed.

"You can't be serious!" Alfred threw up his hands. "Have you been living under a rock! That's…" Something dawned on him. He stared around. There were no cars and only one ticket booth was occupied by an attendant leaned out and waving at them. "Where is everyone?"

"Who?"

"The crowds! The people! Why is it so dead?"

"I did not realize you are fond of crowds," Ivan said nervously. "I can make a call."

"I don't like crowds," Alfred said. "But they should be here. What did you do?"

"I rented it for the day."

"Rented what."

"The park."

Alfred stared and stared, eyes going increasingly wide until he thought they would fall out. His mouth hung open. Finally, he grabbed Ivan's arms and said, "Repeat that."

"The park."

"No, no! What you said before."

"I rented it for the day."

"You rented the whole park?" Ivan nodded. "The whole fucking park?" Ivan nodded again. Alfred waved a hand at Hetalia Funworld. "This park."

"Da. Now let's enjoy the rides." Ivan hooked his arm through a speechless Alfred's arms and pulled him along. He didn't fight it, mind still reeling.

"How much did that cost?"

Ivan simply smiled, as if he had not heard Alfred. Alfred was about to repeat it, when the ticket booth attendant piped, "Welcome to Hetalia Funworld, Mr. Braginski! Have a wonderful time in this place where dreams do come true!"

They slipped through the turnstiles.

After a few feet, Alfred returned to his senses and removed his arm from Ivan's. He grabbed the man's shoulder and turned him around.

"How much did it cost?"

"There is no price on your happiness," Ivan said with a sweet smile. A gentle one that made Alfred's face go red.

"You… you… this is a trick! This is insane!" Alfre said.

"This is a date," Ivan said. He pointed behind Alfred. "Ah, cotton candy."

"Where?" Alfred whipped around, eyes locking on a young woman standing in an orange visor and polo shirt.

 _Target spotted!_

In a flash, Alfred was in front of her, deciding which was the fluffiest one. Did he want the pink one or the blue one?

* * *

"Dude, it's not that bad. You're overreacting," Alfred said, as Ivan clutched his knees and looked about to hurl into a bush.

"How can you eat that? It's toxic," Ivan said.

Alfred rolled his eyes, biting into more of his blue cottony snack. "It's delicious. You're the weird one."

"It's disgusting."

"Don't insult the cotton candy!" Alfred warned, finishing it off. He licked his fingers as Ivan stared at him. "Let's go on the roller coaster! The Rocket Punch sends you to the moon. I've always wanted to go."

"It doesn't send you to the moon."

"Yes, it does. That's what it promises."

"It's not a rocket."

"Whaaat? Really?" Alfred said sarcastically. "I had no idea!"

"You must be poorly educated," Ivan said sympathetically.

"It's sarcasm, dumbass," Alfred said, grinning as his eyes went higher and higher up the loops of the rocket punch.

"Maybe…" Ivan said nervously. "Maybe I will wait down here."

"Why? What? Are you afraid?" Alfred teased.

"No." Ivan cleared his throat. "I respect gravity."

"C'mon," Alfred said, leaning close and nudging Ivan. "A hero can't leave the villain alone. You'll scheme." He beamed at Ivan whose eyebrows climbed up his wide forehead. "You're doing that creepy gaze-thing again."

"It's just…" Ivan swallowed hard, toying with the fabric of his beige scarf. He stared at the brick path, shifting his weight. His cheeks seemed to glow pink. "You've never grinned at me before."

"I grin all the time."

"Not at me."

"That's not true…" Alfred frowned. "I know I've grinned _around_ you before."

"But not at me." Ivan said, a gentle smile appearing on his face. "I like when you smile at me. For me."

Alfred went quiet and then turned sharply away to hide his blush. "Let's —"

He was cut off when Ivan caught his arm and pressed him into the side of the brick wall, placing a hand to either side of Alfred's face. For what felt like an eternity, Ivan studied his face leaning closer and closer until they were in kissing distance. Alfred's mouth went dry and his heart began to pound.

"Smile for me more," Ivan said and then backed off.

Alfred forced a nervous laugh. "Don't be stupid." His gaze caught on a small gift shop and he lit up with an idea. He grabbed Ivan's wrist, pulling him along. "I know what you need!"

* * *

"It looks great!" Alfred gave a thumbs up. "It makes you look—"

"Stupid," Ivan finished, staring flatly at Alfred.

"Does not. Googly-eyed bear hats suit you." The fuzzy, blue looked like someone behead the cookie monster and mounted it on the hat Ivan wore. It was supposed to be the Hetalia Funworld mascot.

Ivan looked unconvinced. Instead he pushed closed to Alfred in a menacing voice with that eerie smile plastered on, asked, "What is my reward for enduring this _humiliation?_ "

Alfred leaned away, not liking that look in Ivan's eyes. The man seemed to have decided what reward he thought he should get.

"I'm wearing one too!" Alfred said, pointing at the googely-eyed bald eagle one that he wore. That was supposed to be Mr. Freedom Wings. "And I feel heroic in this."

"It must be nice living in ignorance." Ivan pushed closer. "I demand a reward."

"You want a reward?" Alfred said and pointed at the Go Kart ride. "Then you earn it. Beat me and I'll give you a kiss."

Ivan's eyes went wide and he turned sharply, narrowing at the Go Kart ticket person who looked a little frightened. He grabbed Alfred's hand, pulling him.

"There will be tongue," Ivan said gruffly.

"Yeah, when you lose to me. You'll be licking _my_ shoes clean," Alfred said.

"Lose to you?" Ivan chuckled darkly. "Do not fret, Sunflower. When I crush you, I'll comfort you in my arms."

"Fat chance!" Alfred freed his hand and jerked his thumb against his chest, puffing out proudly. "You're talking to a red-blooded, steak-fed, dyed-in-the-wool American. _And_ five time annual Christmas Dinner Party Mario Kart Champion who left lodged a blue shell so far up his brother's ass, it threw him off the rainbow bridge!"

"Blue shell?" Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"Forget it!" Alfred said, stomping forward. "But I got made Go Kart skills. These thumbs," he held his up for emphasis, "have won me many bets."

"Hmph. Show me what you can do," Ivan said thickly.

And it was on.

* * *

TBC in … Part 2.

* * *

 **Note #1** — Broke up the chapter again. Merry Christmas everyone! In the original comic, the main love interest rents out a whole restaurant to spend time with Tsukino. I decided a theme park would be grander gesture by Ivan.

* * *

 **Staff Announcement**

* * *

According to reports, the customer responsible for the infamous Go Kart incident was heard shouting "Can't catch me, I'm superman!" right before there was a loud bang and the Go Kart flew into the tree while the customer gave out what he insists was a "manly cry of surprise". Our staff member, Ronnie, who witness the event, insisted he's not sure how it was possible. It seemed to violate several laws of physics.

Thankfully the customer walked away with minor bruising. We will be reassessing the safety of the ride. For the next two weeks it'll will remain closed.


	37. Destructive Lovers Part II

**Note —** It's been a while everyone. I'm really sorry. There were some extended family drama.

However, things have improved now and I finally did manage to get this update out. Sorry for the delay. Thank you for your patience.

* * *

 **Part Two**

* * *

"It's a hundred percent your fault," Alfred said, wincing when he touched the bandages on his forehead.

"Do you have brain damage? It's all your fault," Ivan said.

They were walking shoulder to shoulder while Alfred munched on fluffy blue cotton candy. The staff had banned them from any competitive rides.

"It is not. You're a sore loser."

"It's hard to be that when I never lost," Ivan replied smugly. "However, I agree with the staff. It was amazing how you flew the Go Kart sideways into the tree. Typical American. You don't think physics applies to you."

"You're just jealous that we can do the impossible," Alfred retorted, trying not to show the pain from the throbbing bump on his forehead. Somehow he had walked away with barely a scratch.

Ivan had been livid. After Ivan had — groped — checked that Alfred was not seriously hurt, he had turned his wrath on the staff who wilted under the cold gaze. Alfred had stood up in their defense like the hero he was, insisting it was an accident. By the end, Ivan agreed to compensate for any damages, and the staff apologizes for "faulty" equipment.

At least, after the Go-Kart incident.

As their trail of mass destruction — accidental — spread, the staff became more skeptical. From the shooting gallery, to the ball pen, to the spinning tea cups, and finally the Whack'A'Mole, the staff did not buy the "faulty" equipment argument anymore.

"You decapitated that mole because I was winning. See? Sore loser," Alfred affirmed.

They turned onto an empty, cobblestoned street, one lined by closed stores. Probably they were open when there were more than two park goers. All of them were designed to look like homes out of a quaint German village.

"Not my fault they constructed them so poorly."

"It is your fault," Alfred said. "You aren't supposed to remove the foam from the whacking sticks."

"That's stupid. They're way more effective without the. The moles don't come back up," Ivan said, as if pointing out the obvious.

"Because they're broken!"

"Exactly. Which means I win."

"No, it doesn't. It's the person with the highest score."

"Which is me. I had 999,999."

"Like hell you did! You broke the machine. That's the default score!"

"Now who's a sore loser?"

Alfred threw a scowl at Ivan, eyes narrowing. Licking the cotton candy from his lips, Alfred asked, "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not how you win, but how you play the game?"

"Only a sore loser," Ivan replied smugly.

Alfred wanted to punch that shit-eating smirk off Ivan's face so bad. He stomped ahead. "You're a rotten, cheating scumbag who d—"

He was cut off when Ivan yanked him by the arm, dragging him into a narrow alley and pressed him up against a brick wall, planting his large hands to either side of Alfred's head. Ivan leaned in close, running a thumb down the side of Alfred's cheek.

"I won. And I want my prize," Ivan said huskily.

Alfred swallowed hard, heart thumping. His face went on fire. "Back the fuck up! I don't owe you anything."

He tried to pushed Ivan back, but the man was like a wall. Alfred couldn't help but notice the feel of Ivan's broad chest through the fabric of Ivan's beige coat. So toned!

"Are you scared?" Ivan asked.

"Of you! Never!" Alfred said defiantly, glaring at those violet-hued eyes.

"Good," Ivan said, right before he dove in and their lips met.

A startled Alfred gasped, but that only allowed Ivan to deepen the kiss as he probed deeper. His squeezed Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred grabbed Ivan's lapels to push him off, yet somehow found himself dragging Ivan closer.

Someone moaned, but Alfred refused to believe that himself as Ivan assaulted his mouth.

Alfred felt the kiss to his toes. His eyes started to shut and he started to give in. It was over too soon. A breathless Ivan pulled away, staring very contentedly at Alfred who panted, trying to catch his breath.

"You!" Alfred said, snapping to his sense. He kicked Ivan's shin, sending the man hopping back. Shaking his fist at Ivan, he declared, "You're lucky I don't beat the shit out of you right now!"

Then stalked out of the alley, face red as could be.

"That was payment. You said if I won —"

"You didn't win!"

"I did!"

"You cheated! That's not a victory."

"You are a sore loser."

"Shut up!" Alfred said, throwing up his arms. Ivan appeared at his side, smiling at him in that creepy way.

"You're blushing. Still overwhelmed? Your eyes beg for another kiss."

"They do not!" Alfred growled, rounding on Ivan. He hated that the man was taller because he really wanted to look down at him. "The only thing they want is to see my fist in your face.

Ivan leaned forward suddenly and said, "With that cute face, I better mark you before another steals you."

Alfred went rigid, images flashing through him of the hotel, of the hickeys. And he felt ashamed. He swallowed hard and turned away without a word.

"Alfred?" Ivan said. Alfred stopped, shocked to hear Ivan call him by his name. "Is something wrong?"

Since when was Ivan perceptive about mood? It didn't suit him.

Alfred himself to laugh, tilting his head back a bit. "Just can't believe you think you can own this one hundred percent American-crafted stud? I belong to the world."

"So…" Ivan cocked his head to the side in thought before locking his gaze once more on Alfred. "You want me to mark you. Very well."

"Get off!" Alfred said, backing out of reach. "Why are you so possessive? It's creepy."

"Because others shouldn't touch what's _mine_."

"That's not an answer!"

"What if someone took a bite from your big mac?"

"You mean the one with extra cheese, bacon on the side, and not too much lettuce?" Alfred said, hands curling into fists at the thought. His tone darkened. "I'd kill that person. No one touches my hamburger."

"See? We do think alike."

"How so? I'm not a big mac!"

"You are too me. Greasy, disgusting, stupid and utterly irresistible," Ivan said.

"Did you just insult me?" Alfred said.

"What is someone stole your Happy Meal toy?"

"Which one?"

"Um… one of the cars?" Ivan said. Alfred shrugged. "The space rocket?"

Alfred gasped in horror. "The space rocket really rare to get. What monster does that? Toys and people are different. You can't own a person."

"What if I gave you something to wear that said you were mine?"

"Dude, you're not giving me a ring."

"No, no," Ivan said, shaking his head. "I mean in a visible place, like your neck. A cute collar would suit you."

Alfred gave him a flat look. "I am not wearing a dog collar."

"It's just a collar with 'Property of Braginski' on it."

"You're an idiot," Alfred said, walking up the street. "Geez, you are the definition of the word 'idiot'."

Suddenly, Ivan hooked his arm through Alfred and pointed ahead, saying, "Let's go in there."

"In where?" Alfred said, following in slow horror to where the finger pointed. "No…"

"It looks like a charming place. Like from one of my favorite comedies," Ivan said, smiling wide as he dragged Alfred with him.

"I'm not going in there." He planted his feet, forcing Ivan to halt.

"Are you scared?"

"What?" Alfred gasped. "Me? I'm not scared of nothing!"

"Proof it," Ivan said.

And that's how they entered the "Spooky Mansion".

* * *

 **Note —** I wasn't going to do a Pt. 3 but I hadn't gotten anything out in so long. So I got this out for your enjoyment. Sorry for the long wait!


	38. Destructive Lovers Part III

"Laaaame," Alfred declared, opening his mouth in a wide yawn. "What was that?" His eyes darted left toward a shady corner and he jumped to Ivan's side. "Did you hear that?"

Alfred frowned when Ivan grabbed his hand, twining his fingers through Alfred's. He tried to shake Ivan off, but the man had an iron grip.

"Let go."

Ivan hummed happily, swinging their hands as he dragged Alfred forward through the haunted, cobweb and gore-filled hallway.

"This place is boring," Ivan agreed, pausing to admire a blood splatter on the wall. "Totally unrealistic. Real blood doesn't dry like that."

Busy trying to free himself from Ivan's grasp, Alfred said, "Yeah… wait. What?"

No sooner did Alfred get free then Ivan hooked an arm through his and pulled him close. His face warmed from their proximity.

"Would you let go?"

"Of you? I'll never let go of you," Ivan said. "Don't bother trying to escape." Alfred gaped. Ivan paused at an open Iron Maiden — a cardboard replica with a bloody skeleton impaled against the spike inside. It was planted in a corner near the door. With a shake of his head, Ivan said, "The ones at my home are authentic."

"You… have." Alfred at got free of Ivan's arm and kept out of reach. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ivan leaned over and sniffed. A look of disappointment crossed his face. "It just doesn't have that used smell."

"Of course it doesn't! Who uses an iron maiden?" He paled at Ivan's smirk and walked a few feet ahead. "I don't even want to know."

As he entered the next hall, something fell from the ceiling and he screamed when a glowing-green skeleton appeared inches from his face.

With a cry of "Holy Hell!" he leapt onto Ivan and they both tumbled backwards into the Iron Maiden that crashed into the wall and fell apart under their combined weight.

For a moment, Alfred lay on top of Ivan, breathing heavily. Then it dawned on him their position. Face like a furnace, he scrambled to get off when Ivan grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him backward. Suddenly, Alfred was on his back, on the remains of a destroyed Iron Maiden and Ivan was straddling him.

"That was nice," Ivan said, leaning forward.

"Get off!" Alfred said, pushing his palms against Ivan's chest. He gasped when Ivan took one of his hands and kissed the wrists. "Stop that!"

He wondered why he did not explode from how hot he felt, Ivan's lips sent heat throughout his body.

"You attacked me," Ivan said. "Don't I deserve a reward."

"Sure, my fist to your face." Alfred tried to get up, but Ivan pushed him down and those violet eyes held him, hypnotized him.

"I like the expression on your face right now," Ivan said, pinning Alfred's wrists against the still standing part of the Iron Maiden. "What should we do?"

"Bastard. I'll beat the shit outta you right now if you don't get off."

"Can't you just admit you like me?"

Alfred swallowed hard, then forced out a laugh. "Like hell I do. You're fat ass is crushing me."

Ivan's lips grew closer and closer as Alfred's breath quickened. He knew he should resist, but he found himself excited. His lips parted.

The lights turned on and the eerie horror sounds stopped as a voice over the intercom said, "Mr. Braginski and Mr. Jones. On behalf of our park, we thank you for your support and kindly ask you to vacate the premises. We have contacted the owner and decided that enough is enough. Thank you for choosing our park, now please leave without destroying anymore property."

Ivan glared at the speaker, as if he would burn it out with his eyes. The distracted moment gave Alfred a chance to shove Ivan off and slip out.

"Awful timing."

"Perfect timing," Alfred said. "Are they really kicking us out?"

* * *

It was sunset when they returned to the limo.

The ride back into the city was awkward. Ivan kept staring at Alfred who finally asked, "Why are you glaring at me? It's creepy, fuckhead."

"Do you want to know why?" Ivan asked, sliding toward Alfred in the seat. Alfred refused to cow from him and shoved his foot between them to block Ivan.

"Don't even think about it."

"Why are you so shy?" Ivan asked. "It's only sex."

Alfred flushed. "Who said I'd do that with you?"

Images flooded his mind of Ivan… No, he could not think about that.

"You do think about it. Your red face is clear. Do you get hard to thoughts of me? I'm glad I'm in your head," Ivan said, smiling sweetly.

"Freak," Alfred said, going red. "And for the record, no! I jerk-off to Wonder Woman and Batgirl."

Total lie.

By the time they go back, Alfred had kicked and punched at Ivan several times and that bastard had managed to pin him down at one point and leave a hickey.

A disheveled Alfred left the limo cursing Ivan out at the corner of the supermarket, thanking him for a "great fucking day, asshole!"

He knew Tino would scold him for being rude if he saw this behavior. However, Alfred had never felt as easily provoked as he did around Ivan. The man made him sensitive to everything.

"Tomorrow, I'll pick you up. We'll go to school together. Don't even try to avoid me this time," Ivan warned.

"Or what?" Alfred asked.

Ivan smiled. "I have many toys. I'll be happy to use them if you test my patience. Bye ~"

Then he shut the door and the limo drove off, leaving behind a horrified Alfred.

"That son of bitch," Alfred groaned, carding his fingers through his hair.

He hated how his body reacted to Ivan. His mind wanted to run far away, but his body wanted to run into Ivan's embrace. It was confusing and too much.

Above all, he wanted to hate the guy, so why couldn't he? He feared more than anything he might be falling hard for the guy.

* * *

(TBC in "Believe in Me".

They wait in the courtyard of Hetalia High. They know what Alfred did, and soon… so will Ivan. )


	39. Filth

**Believe In Me**

* * *

"Mattie? Are you okay?" Alfred asked, having just watched his brother flip a pancake onto the floor. He held up his plate. "Hurry. Five second rule."

"No," Matthew said, shaking his head, as if coming out of a day dream. He sighed over the wasted food and put it on a separate plate. "I'll feed it to the neighbor's dog."

"Ah, it's fine. The floor's clean enough," Alfred said, tapping a foot on the yellowed tiles, one came slightly loose.

When Matthew did not answer, but went back to staring out the window, Alfred started to get concerned.

"Mattie?"

"O-Oh, sorry," his brother said, tucking a lock behind his ear, cheeks pinking. There fathers were in the bedroom getting "ready" and from the noises they suspected a lot more. "What's wrong with me?"

"You sick or something? Is it about yesterday? Look I'm sorry I forgot to get you a stuffed Mr. Polar from the park. That creepy bastard kept distracting me."

Matthew suddenly turned, clutching his spatula close, the pancakes and bacon sizzling in the pans behind him, and in an urgent voice said, "Al, don't go to school today."

"Why?" Alfred said, turning away from his math homework.

"Just don't," Matthew said, lower lip trembling. "I… I… feel like something bad will happen."

"Oh please," Alfred said. "Something bad always happens. That's why I have to go. I'm the hero that sorts out things, defends the weak, and all that jazz."

"N-No. I don't think you should go. I just… something doesn't feel right." Matthew swallowed hard. "I had this same feeling the day Tino was in his accident. You remember."

"That was one time. Besides, that psycho Ivan wouldn't let anyone touch me but him," Alfred said. "I can take anything he dishes at me. Hey, the bacon's burning."

"Will you listen to me." Matthew stepped closer. "Something isn't right. Please. Stay home."

Alfred pointed behind him. "Great. One side of the pancakes will be black."

Matthew sighed, turning around and moving the bacon to the plates and flipping the last pancake onto Alfred's stack.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"I'm not skipping school because you had a _feeling_. That's silly. Nothing bad is going to happen. Not on such sunny day," Alfred said, flashing his grin. "I'm so touched your worried for your heroic big brother."

Matthew clutched at the edge of the counter, leaning over. He inhaled deeply.

"Promise me you'll be careful."

"Yeah, yeah. Caution is my middle name."

"I thought it was Careless."

Alfred snorted. What was Matthew being so edgy for? Now it was making Alfred nervous.

* * *

"Mattie was right. Today is a bad day," Alfred said, when he found Ivan waiting outside. "I told you not to pick me up from here."

"By limo. My limo is down the block," Ivan said, smoothing out the end of his scarf.

Alfred only half-heartedly shrugged Ivan off as the man slung an arm around his shoulder. It was embarrassing to have the neighborhood see such possessive displays.

As he stared up at the blue sky, he felt a sudden fear, like something wasn't right.

 _Mattie's got you spooked is all. Nothing I can't handle will happen._

* * *

Prying Ivan off, Alfred clambered out of the limo outside the gates of Hetalia High. He forbid the guy from letting them exit together, and ran for the locker room with his bags slung over one shoulder and his backpack over the other.

He never made it.

A pack of students — male and female — were waiting. He recognized some of them as the ones that had been the biggest instigators of the bullying. They had changed their tunes since he and Ivan started going out.

Now they had smug sneers on their face and looked full of delight.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, Jones," one of the girls said.

"What are you losers talking about?" Alfred said.

"Don't act innocent," the pigtailed-girl said before blowing out a bubble with her gum and popping it. She sucked it back in with her tongue. "You're dirty."

Alfred suddenly felt his stomach twist, and started to worry. He flashed back to the hotel room. There was no way.

The boys came forward to either side and grabbed him by the arms. Alfred shoved them off.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you to the courtyard. It's _all_ there."

Alfred knew he shouldn't go, his every instinct said run. However, he refused to run from anyone.

"I can see myself," Alfred said, dusting off the sleeves of his jacket.

* * *

Hundreds of eyes glared at him as the crowd split apart. Alfred kept wondering where the teachers were, where was Ivan. Oh that's right, Ivan was waiting at the cafeteria for breakfast with Alfred. Alfred had told him to meet there.

The crowd opened wide to reveal the fountain. In front of the fountain was a fold-out table with a neat arrangement of several lewd photos of two men having sex in a hotel room in various positions. Three were blown up and set on stands on the fountain's edge.

Alfred froze, swallowing hard, feeling knotted inside. He wanted to throw up. Everything came back, raw and livid.

There he was, eyes shut, jaw slack and open, almost in a look of pleasure, as a man rode him. The other's man's face was never visible, only the back of his head and his broad shoulders.

 _Gross_. _Gross!_

Alfred clutched at himself, wanting to disappear, wanting to tear off his skin, the skin that man violated. These photos were fake. They couldn't be real.

His eyes were closed in everyone — no matter how they were angled an astute observer would see it was staged.

"Slut!" a female student called. Followed by another. Then the boys joined the chorus that soon spread like wildfire.

"You cheated on Ivan. I knew you were trash!" someone called and others added.

He tore his gaze away, as their anger escalated. He needed to calm down, to figure this out. Who had done this? Was this some kind of sick joke?

They date-raped him and then put the photos up at his school.

"You guys are sick!" Alfred accused. "You did this."

"We did nothing but expose you!" A man sneered.

Before he could react an egg flew from the left corner of his vision and hit him in the face. He turned away, too late to block it and touched his face in shock. Yolk dripped down his chin.

They laughed, pointed and sneered. Soon more eggs came and others began to throw flour.

"Get out of my way!" Alfred said, charging at the crowd, trying to force away out. They jeered and pushed back.

A foot stuck out behind him, causing him to trip backward and land on his ass. He quickly scrambled up, but not before someone shoved him back to the ground, then they were kicking and stomping. He struck back.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?"

The crowd quickly backed off, several looking frightened and sheepish. They backed out of the way as a furious Ivan glared at them, striding forward.

"Who said you fuckers could do this? You want to die?" He warned, a sickly smile overtaking his features.

He rushed to Alfred's side, looking concerned and reached out a hand.

Alfred reached out a hand back, when someone called, "But look what he did!"

In a moment that would forever be etched in Alfred's head, Ivan stopped and saw the photos. He froze, hand still starting to reach out. What color had been in his face disappeared.

His eyes went empty and for a pause that lasted a lifetime, no one moved. No one breathed.

"Ivan, listen," Alfred said, reaching for that hand, yet Ivan snatched it away, as if touched by hot coals. "Ivan?"

Ivan straightened up, not looking at Alfred, not breaking his gaze from the photos. Instead he walked past Alfred, moving slowly, and stopped in front of them. He was very still and rigid.

Alfred was afraid of what was on his expression.

"You have to listen. I was drugged," Alfred said. "I woke up the next day with no memory of any of this. It's not what it looks like. I wanted to tell you."

"Liar!" someone called.

"Shut up!" Alfred snapped, rounding on them. "Stay the fuck out!"

"Cheater!" one of those girls from earlier called, cupping a hand around the side of her mouth.

"Scumbag!"

Alfred grabbed Ivan's shoulder, pulling on it to turn the man around. "Ivan, listen to me. I can explain."

Ivan slapped his arm away, and then turned. Those lavender eyes were dead and empty. In a voice as cold as the first time they met, Ivan asked, "Why would I listen to _filth_?"

* * *

 _TBC…in "One Against Many"_

Abandoned to the mob, Alfred fights alone. And things turn… _deadly.  
_


	40. One Against Many

**One Against Many**

* * *

 _Note:_ You might get triggered.

* * *

Seated on the cushioned stool in front of his vanity, Francis angrily powdered his nose. Puffs of foundation hung like a cloud around him, one that slowly settled, only to be replaced my more little puffs. Finally, he snapped shut the compact and tossed it and the foundation brush on the vanity with a clatter.

"Unacceptable," Francis said, shooting to his feet and throwing the small sky blue capelet over his left shoulder. He waved his right arm in the air as he continued, "No matter what I do the dark circles remain. This is horrifying. At this rate…" He stifled a sob, "I will get a wrinkle."

"A few more won't kill you," Gilbert said, continuing his bird-watching with his binoculars from the windows on the other side of the room. They were in their "club" room.

"A few more!" Francis choked. "Sacre bleu! How dare you!"

"Where is that bastard Antonio?" Gilbert grumbled, training his binoculars below. "He'll have fun when that Russian bastard finds out."

"I'm surprised you're on time. You usually love to defy him," Francis said.

"Eh," Gilbert shrugged. "I have my reasons."

A glance into the courtyard below caused Francis to step closer to the windows and peer down. His eyes narrowed. Without looking at Gilbert, he waved him over and said, "Quick, lend those binoculars."

"No can do. Get your own."

"For Heaven's sake, it is an emergency," Francis said coldly, pointing. "There is a large number of people around the fountain. I fear there has been another red card."

"Red card?" Gilbert left his corner and hurried over. He ignored Francis's outstretched hand and peered down himself. "Holy shit, you're right. They're gathered around some guy. A punk in a… say, is that Ivan's boy-toy?"

"What? Give me that!" Francis said, grabbing the binoculars. He struggled with Gilbert. When Gilbert would not release them, he leaned over and kissed the top of Gilbert's hand.

With a yelp, Gilbert let go and jumped back as if burned by a hot poker. "You nasty bastard!" he cried.

Francis peered through, fearful of it smudging his make-up and went very still, feeling his chest constrict. He handed them back to Gilbert. "Call Ivan and Antonio. I have to get down there."

"Why?" Gilbert said, grabbing his binoculars as Francis strode for the doors.

He paused at the door, pausing to say over his shoulder, "Because some fool truly has red-carded that American oaf."

"That's him? The guy Ivan's been slobbering over. That's like suicide. Ivan will be pissed."

"That's what concerns me," he said, then hurried into the hall. The elevators were too slow, so he did the unthinkable: he used the stairs.

He had to stop this before Ivan found out.

* * *

Alfred stood there in shock, Ivan's words replaying in his head.

 _Why should I listen to filth?_

Alfred saw himself waking up in that hotel room, remembered feeling like filth. The dirtiness washed over him and rendered him silent for the first time in his life.

Ivan saw him as… filth?

He went numb.

When he said nothing, Ivan turned, eyes narrowing in cold regard. The crowd quieted, as if eagerly listening. There was a vacant-look in Ivan's eyes, as if they did not see Alfred, but someone else, as if he spoke to someone else.

"Was it fun? Spreading your legs, whore?" Ivan sneered. "How much did you charge?"

Alfred opened his mouth, yet words could not come out.

"Nothing to say? That's a first." Ivan smiled coldly. "You had me fooled. I thought you couldn't be bought…" he laughed bitterly.

A look of pain flickered across Ivan's face for a brief moment, swallowed by the emptiness. He grabbed at his chest, as if to catch a heart that might explode out of it at any moment.

"I loved you," Ivan said in a tight, pained voice. "I would have paid much better."

"I-Ivan…" Alfred managed, stepping forward to grab Ivan's shoulder. "It's not true. I—."

The moment he touched Ivan, something snapped in the other man. Ivan's body sprung forward so fast that Alfred had no time to react before Ivan's fist slammed like a hammer into his stomach. Doubling over, Alfred sunk to his knees gasping for air in a world that suddenly had none. Who knew Ivan could hit like that?

Alfred had been lucky the first time.

He could not stand, palm pressing on the grass to hold himself up.

The crowd clapped and cheered, taunting Alfred.

When he managed to raise his head, it was in time to see Ivan's back just as the crowd closed in behind him.

"I-Ivan…" Alfred wheezed, reaching for him, stunned to see that scarf disappear. Then he was gone.

 _He abandoned me._

The realization stabbed Alfred in the chest. The man who stalked, harassed, and endlessly professed affection of Alfred had left him to the mob without even a backward glance. Alfred had thought nothing would hurt worse than waking up in that hotel room with no memory of the night before, but he had been wrong. All of Ivan's sweet words and promises now felt like knives ramming into Ivan's back.

How could he? Alfred's fingertips sunk into the grass. He blinked back tears and forced himself to stand, backing toward the table of photos as the hungry mob smirked and crackled knuckles. The women stayed toward the back, egging the men on. Some had bats and other weapons. A few had their faces covered by scars and hoodies.

There were no teachers anywhere in site.

"Look like someone's fairytale just ended," a blond woman in heavy make-up called. People laughed.

They closed in.

"Fuck off!" Alfred shouted, raising his fists like globes in orbit of each other. He shifted his right foot back. "Come on! I'll take on all of you if I have to. The whole damn world. You're a bunch of cowards. Afraid of a fair fight?"

"Lying whores don't deserve a fair fight," the pigtailed-girl from earlier called.

"Ain't you one to talk," Alfred retorted, gaze darting around, watching for who would attack first.

A dirty fight called for dirty means.

With a wink and a grin, Alfred spun around and grabbed the fold-out table, lifting it up. Photos and fliers spilled on the ground and into the fountain. Then he swung. This hero would not go down easily.

* * *

On the fifth floor, Francis flew around the staircase and nearly collided with the wall that was the slow lumbering Ivan. He quickly backed up, dabbing his forehead. The elevators had been too slow. Despite the horror of sweating, he had risked it.

"Mon Cheri!" Francis said. Ivan did not look at him, but continued staring at the stairs as trudged up. "What are you doing? Your little American idiot is in the courtyard. We must hurry to him."

Ivan walked by, rounding to the next flight. His eyes had that disturbing dead-look that everyone in their group feared. His aura seemed to radiate frost.

"Ivan," Francis said in a very serious voice, trotting up beside him, trying to get eye contact. "Did you not hear? Your Alfred is in danger."

Ivan stopped, staring at nothing but floor tiles. Then he continued up.

"What are you doing?" Francis snapped, grabbing Ivan's arm in a flash of danger. "He needs you."

Ivan went stiff, slowly turning to glare at where Francis held him at the crook of his hand. Francis quickly let go and backed out of reach.

"I'm sorry, but you need to snap out of this. They could hurt that boy you love."

Ivan lifted up his face and gave a bitter laugh. Then he mumbled, as if talking more to himself than Francis, "Love? He's just filth."

Francis went stiff, not reacting when Ivan started to mount the stairs again. His mind raced to process this. His hand curled into fists, the left squeezing his handkerchief.

"Ivan!" His voice rang up the staircase. "Not another step!"

It took him a moment to realize it was his own sweet voice that spoke that. Ivan, however, ignored it until Francis ran up to the top of the steps and held out his arms, blocking Ivan's way.

"Explain yourself this instant, you brute!"

Deep down, Francis was a lover, not a fighter. He preferred to run over getting hit in his beautiful face. However, to watch _L'amour_ made into a mockery sent an anger through his every insides, one that drove him to attempt to block Ivan who finally met his eyes.

That ice cold gaze narrowed, warning Francis to move. Francis would not.

"Did you abandon him?" Francis demanded. "Did betray _l'amour_?"

"There is no such thing," Ivan said in a low voice.

Without thinking, Francis's hand flew out and swatted Ivan across the cheek. The man's eyes bugged out, a red mark loud on his right cheek. Francis's left hand ached; his heart pounded.

He had just done the craziest thing of his life. He had slapped Ivan of all people's.

Rage thundered on Ivan's face and Francis retreated backwards until his back hit the wall. Ivan loomed over him and in a dark voice warned, "Only one man is allowed to hit me. You know that."

"And where is that man?" Francis managed, voice only slightly quivering. "Where is that man you spouted on and on how you loved? Hmm? What have you done?"

Something shifted in Ivan's eyes, an awareness began to form like dawn break the dark horizon. Fear replaced anger, and he went very still, never breaking his gaze from Francis.

"He…" Ivan said, voice almost sounding meek and hurt. "He cheated."

Francis forced out a small laugh. "Please. That boy is a prude."

"I saw…" Ivan shook from head to toe.

"Saw what?" Francis asked. "Over and over you harassed that boy. Forced your feelings on him. Put him on a pedestal to worship as a personal Venus. Did you think _l'amor_ is easy? It takes both sides. Not once have you listened to him. Of course, he might stray. Men like him always run when others try to cage them."

Ivan's silver eyebrows rose as if coming to a great realization. He covered his mouth, his other hand grabbing the wall for support. He looked sickened.

"Ivan?" Francis said, worried.

"You're right," Ivan said. "It is my fault this happened."

Francis's shoulder slumped in relief. "Yes, love is a mutual. From now on you must —"

"I gave him too much freedom," Ivan said. Francis stilled. "This happened because I did not watch him close enough. Of course, he would be tempted. My Sunflower is like a child. He needs to be protected from his wild urges."

"No, you're not listening."

"What have I done?" Agony took over his features. Ivan spun around, taking the stairs down two at a time. "I have to hurry and save him before it's too late."

Francis watched him go in shock. With a sigh, he massaged his forehead. "Well… at least he's going to help."

Francis only hoped Ivan would reach Alfred in time.

* * *

The bloodstained fingers of Alfred's right hand dug furrows in the dirt, ripping grass up by the roots as he dragged himself forward. Sweat stung his eyes, still he crawled.

He would never forgive Ivan for this. He regretted thinking even for a moment that Ivan had a slightly decent sign. The man was a monster.

Alfred refused to end in a tragedy. His life would be an epic. He refused to believe otherwise.

His vision darkened at the sides, as though he stared out of a tunnel. Blood wet his lips. He had managed to carve a path through the crowd until they got the table away. As he ran, they threw eggs, then they threw rocks. The first one hit off a tree, the next a limb, and finally a large one hit in the back of his skull.

He didn't remember much about that. He remembered stumbling and falling to his knees. He touched the back of his skull with a trembling hand and pulled it around to see his palm covered in blood. His blood.

All the voices sounded far away, and for the first time it occurred to Alfred that he might not survive this. He kept thinking of his family, of all the things he had yet to accomplish — like building the first Hamburger House — and of Ivan. The Ivan that loved him, and the Ivan that abandoned him.

When he could not stand, he crawled.

His pursuers surrounded him, their shoes walling him in a cage. Their shadows covered him as they jeered and mocked his pain. They called him worthless, said he deserved this. They mocked him as "Ivan's poor _widdle_ Sunflower".

Someone said, "He's wilting. Quick water the _sunflower!_ "

Ice cold water splattered over his back, briefly waking him fully back to conscious. In a way it helped wake Alfred up for a moment.

He reached for the boot in front of him and the person stepped out of reach, snapping in disgust, "Ugh, you'll ruin them."

Then he kicked Alfred's hand away. Alfred groaned in pain, slumping forward and breathing heavily through his nose. Over and over his mind kept replaying the moment Ivan abandoned him. For all Ivan's talk of love and care, in the end it had just been talk.

 _He kissed me. He said he cared._

It had all been lies. Ivan had abandoned him to these bastards, and Alfred would never forgive him for that. The betrayal made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to vomit, to scream, to cry, and to beat the hell out of Ivan.

 _Gotta stand_.

Through the haze of pain, he planted his palms on the grass and tried to push up. A sharp kick to his side sent him back to the ground. The wound in his head throbbed and felt wet.

A boot shoved against his side, forcing Alfred to roll onto his back. Stars filled his visions, reminding him of the grassy hilltop where he and Matthew used to stargaze as boys. He had taught Matthew all the constellations, dragging him there for the summer and winter skies.

A grin tugged the corner of his lips up, as he remembered those happy nights.

"Geez, what the hell is he grinning about?"

"He must like beatings," one of the men said and the others laughed.

"Figures, Ivan's cum dumpster would like it rough."

Snickers all around.

"Ma…t…" Alfred breathed.

Why weren't they helping?

A taller figured lifted up his boot, aiming it directly above Alfred's face.

"Nightie-night, sweetheart," the man laughed.

Alfred shut his eyes as the boot rushed down.

* * *

The soapy plate shattered on the tiled floor, sending suds and pieces in all directions.

Matthew did not move. He barely reacted to what he had dropped. Instead, he vomited into the sink, emptying breakfast from his stomach into its steel bottom.

He clung to the edge with his rubber gloves, breathing heavily.

What was this putrid feeling in him, like worms wiggling under his skin?

He stood petrified in the kitchen of the Pancake Factory by a strange, miserable feeling.

"Al?" he whispered, not sure why his brother's name came to his lips.

Suddenly, he bent forward and dry-heaved into the sink.

The call came an hour later.

* * *

TBC in… "The Tragedy of Alfred F. Jones"

Even heroes fall.

* * *

 _Note:_ Wait for the next chapter. There is still a lot more story to cover.


	41. The Tragedy of Alfred Jones Pt 1

**The Tragedy of Alfred F. Jones**

* * *

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

* * *

That noise was everywhere. Alfred could not escape its steady beat. It seemed to be a part of him.

Sometimes, voice called from far away. They said strange things like:

 _"Doctor, we're losing him!"_

 _"He's losing too much blood._ "

He could not quite understand the importance of their words, but they made Alfred very sad, like something important was slipping away.

The "beep" slowed, each one coming further and further apart.

There were other sounds and voices, those were every scarier because they were familiar.

He remembered a sobbing voice saying, " _Al! Al! Please don't leave."_

He remembered a voice that made him both very sad and very angry at the same time. That one said, " _Forgive me, Sunflower. Forgive me._ "

Then it whispered in words he could not understand.

Over and over they asked for the same thing: please stay. However, each one provoked a different feeling in him. They all sounded so sad and desperate, yet Alfred could understand why.

At first, all he could see was white. Then blobs of color took shape until he saw a glass skylight far above him and the blue sky beyond it. He lay on his back on a fake leather set of seats.

Sitting up, he clutched his throbbing head and massaged his temple. It felt like someone had stomped on his head. There were rows and rows of empty black leather seats and tall glass windows to the left.

He was in an airport lobby that was completely empty. White pillars dotted along the linoleum walkway.

Even stranger, he wore a light green hospital robe that was breezy and open in the back.

"Where am I?" he said aloud.

"Nowhere," called a bubbly female voice.

He turned around, jumping to his feet to see a woman sitting on the seated right behind his. She kept her back to him, face hidden by her position and the wide-brim straw hat she wore. It had a sky blue ribbon tied around the base that matched her sky-blue blouse.

Goosebumps broke out across his skin.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, now how could you forget me, little Alfie?" She shifted, turning around, and lifting her face enough to show her cherry-red lips and narrow chin. "Is that anyway to treat your mother?"

His legs nearly gave out and he backed up until he slumped into an opposing set of seats. A ill-feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and images flashed in his mind that he quickly shut out.

"My mother is dead," he said gravelly.

"Yes, I am. And," she stood up and walked around the row of seats, hands grazing across the tops. Her finger nails were long and painted red. "…so are you."

"What? No, I'm not."

That beeping sound came back, echoing around the empty airport lobby. He covered his ears, but he could not blot it out.

It came:

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

 _Beep_

 _… then the sound of a flatline._

He went very still, shaken to his core.

"No," he said, shaking his head in denial. "No." He grabbed his head, digging his fingers into his scalp. "I can't be dead." Tears blurred his vision. They trickled down his cheek. "I barely lived. I had so much left to do."

Then he shot to his feet and he shouted at her, "I refuse! I'm not dead!"

 _Beat! Beat you fucker!_ His head screamed as his fist pounded at his chest.

Then it came back, the sound of the steady beeps.

He sank to his seat in relief, clutching at his heart. His heart was beating again.

Finally, his mother lifted her head enough to reveal her oval face and sky-blue eyes, so like his own just like her hair. She smiled at him.

"I suppose you have a little longer, but whether you go back or follow me is yet to be decided."

"Where are we?" he demanded, feeling drained and depleted.

"London, Gatwick airport," she said, waving a hand around. "Or at least how you remember it."

"I don't remember going to London, Gatwick airport."

"There are lots of things you refuse to remember. However, this is where you forgot something very important," she said, smoothing the white skirt she wore. It fell to the ankles.

His eyes caught on her wrists and the vertical slashes still wide in them. There was no blood, just gaping slashes. He quickly glanced away.

"This is a dream," Alfred said.

"Perhaps," his mother replied, tapping a fingernail to her chin. "Or that's what you'll say if you wake up."

"I'm getting out of here," he said, standing up and wobbling from another feeling of weakness.

"Careful. You haven't much energy left," she called behind him. "Let me show you the way."

"I don't want help from you," he said, pausing to say over his shoulder. "Your not real. But even if you were, I want nothing from you."

She only gave a chuckle as he strode away. The Hero would find his own way back from where ever this place was.

"When you change you're mind, call my name," she said, voice echoing around. "Do be careful. This place is filled with your memories, and some of them are quite _upset_ that you locked them away. Hidden truths can be quite aggressive."

What was she talking about? This was just a very odd dream.

All the while that steady _beep_ rang as a faint background noise.

* * *

tbc in… "The Tragedy of Alfred Jones Pt. 2".

Alfred is faced with his dark side, the regrets he hid away. A surprising realization about Ivan awaits…

* * *

 **Note:** Sorry if this update was short. We're getting a little trippy here. I hope you won't mind. A few readers have asked about regular updates. I wish I could, but sometimes I get irregular.

Apologies about that.


	42. The Tragedy of Alfred Jones Pt 2

**The Tragedy of Alfred F. Jones Pt. 2**

* * *

 **Note:** Trapped between life and death, Alfred finds his comfort zone…

* * *

In times of struggle, it is natural to seek comfort from a higher power.

Since there was no church to be found, Alfred settled for a McDonalds. The golden arches glowed softly above a large, peach-colored menu that listed food and drink in glossy white letters. It was a hole-in-the-wall wedged between a Tim Horten's and a Dunkin' Donuts in the airport hallway, away from the gates.

Alfred looked down at the laminated menu, located between two cash registers on the grey countertop. He pushed his glasses back up when they slid down the bridge of his nose.

Beside him stood a cardboard display shaped like _Lightening McQueen_ from the pixar movie _Cars_. All the toy cars on display were from the movie that came out in 2006. Alfred knew since he had collected them all. In fact, he _still_ collected Happy Meal Toys sometimes.

Had he gone back in time or something? Shouldn't _Moana_ toys be on display?

No one was in the kitchen, even though the industrial refrigerator and greasers looked turned on. However, the fragrant scent of french fries boiling in oil was absent. He couldn't even smell the sizzle of hamburger patties. It didn't smell like McDonalds, but like some sterile medical facility. The whole airport smelled more like a hospital room than an airport. It was also eerily silent apart from that distant _beeping_ noise.

"Hello? Yoo-hoo ~" he called, cupping a hand around the side of his mouth.

No response.

He sighed, knowing he would have to cook his own Quarter Pounder and french fries. Just as he moved to go behind the counter, he heard a strange giggle.

His gaze searched around, his heart pounding, a part of him expecting to see the one man he didn't want to see here. When he didn't find Ivan, he felt a strange disappointment. He was supposed to be relieved. That man had betrayed him.

Motion drew his eye to a corner of the hallway where it intersected with another. There was another giggle and he saw it came from a small wheat-blond boy peaking around. The kid looked about six, maybe seven, and stared at Alfred with owlish, sky blue eyes. He wore a red jumper and striped sweater.

When they locked eyes, the kid yelped and disappeared around the corner with a squeak of sneakers.

"Hey wait!" Alfred called, chasing after. His bare fleet slapped on the tiles. "Come back!"

He rounded the corner, shocked to see the kid almost at the end, a little blond cowlick bobbing on his head.

"I won't hurt you!" Alfred called.

The boy paused, one hand on the round brass knob of a simple door that looked like it led into a janitor's closet. There was something _familiar_ about the kid's face and that curled up cowlick on his head. Something about the child reminded Alfred of himself.

"Are you lost?" Alfred asked, approaching slowly with his palms up. "I'll help you find your parents."

The kid flashed a grin, then twisted the knob and pulled the heavy steel door open. He vanished inside just as Alfred reached it.

"That brat," Alfred grumbled, grabbing the knob and turning.

It opened with a groan to reveal a pitch-black interior. Why was it so dark inside?

He gulped hard. "Kid? Aren't you scared hiding in here? It's kind of dark."

Tempted to shut the door and leave, Alfred reminded himself that a true hero would never leave a lost child to the dark like this, even if there were ghosts.

 _I'm not scared_ , Alfred told himself, trying to make it true.

"Kid? Where are you?" He stepped inside.

No sooner was he fully inside than something from the outside shoved the door shut. It shoved with enough forced to overcome Alfred's palm holding it open and then it was pitch dark.

"Hey!" Alfred said, fumbling around for the handle. It wouldn't turn. He hit a fist against it. "Let me out!"

"Alfred Jones!" snapped a stern, _familiar_ voice. "Take a seat this instant."

That voice… it couldn't be.

He turned to find himself standing at the back of his second grade class back. All his classmates were turned in their seats, staring at him. He swallowed hard, feeling small In fact, he was small again. He was seven years old and dressed in his favorite red jumper with the superman logo on the front.

Mr. Johnson, a tall, gaunt man with a combover and thin spectacles, watched him from the chalkboard.

The room was decorated in pink, white, and red hearts, along with loops of construction paper chains that hung above the world maps on the right side of the room between the two doors. They also decorated the windows on the left side. Every desk had decorated paper bags stuffed with Valentine's Day cards and candy.

Alfred stood, clutching a Hallway Pass in his hand.

"Well? Did you not hear?" Mr. Johnson said sharply, waving a piece of chalk at Alfred and gesturing at an empty seat in the middle row. "Take your seat."

"Yes, Mr. Johnson," Alfred said with a grin, falling back into the actions of that day.

After taking back the hallway pass, Mr. Johnson returned to explaining addition on the green chalkboard. Most of the students made funny faces among each other or eyed their hauls from this morning's Valentine's Day party.

A few girls winked and smiled at Alfred whose bag was stuffed to the brim. When Mr. Johnson wasn't looking, Alfred sneaked out another bag of M&Ms from his bag. They weren't supposed to touch them. If anyone was caught again, their bags would be confiscated until the end of the day.

However, he could not help it. The candy called to him.

Alfred was so popular that kids from other classrooms had given him cards and candy at recess, especially the girls who said they drew extra hearts for him.

A sound started to invade the memory, changing what really happened. It was a soft sobbing from behind that grew louder and louder until it became deafening. Alfred clapped his hands over his ears, but that did nothing to block it out.

Who was crying?

He turned in his seat, gaze drifting to the very back and a seat at the corner where a boy in a white jumper and red sweater cried softly. His face was hidden by his propped up math book, but a droopy pale-blond cowlick hung over the grey cover, shaking as the boy's body trembled with repressed tears.

Why was he crying so loud?

Alfred's eyes drifted to the shriveled, empty bag taped to the front of the boy's desk. It had Canadian flags drawn on it and polar bears, along with red and white hearts. No one, not even Alfred, had remembered to put a single card or candy in the forgotten boy's bag. Not even Mr. Johnson remembered.

The boy was treated as if he were invisible.

 _Mattie?_

Alfred swallowed hard, heart hammering as he started to remember fragments of this day. He had forgotten about this. He had forgotten about how everyone in school pretended that Matthew didn't exist. No one liked Matthew back then. When he would walk by kids would joke, "Did you hear? The Invisible Man's son goes here. His name is... um... was Mark? Murphy?" Then everyone would laugh as Matthew ran off to cry in the bathroom, and sometimes Alfred joined in the joke.

Why did I do that? Heroes don't do that.

But he had.

Alfred stood up, breaking from the memory, ignoring the eyes that turned to him. Even if it wasn't real, he would do the right thing. The thing he should have done that day.

He carried the packet of M&M down the aisle, past the staring kids and to Matthew's desk.

"I'm sorry, Mattie," he said sadly.

Slowly, Mattie peaked up from the book to reveal eyes puffy from crying and stared at Alfred.

"I was a jerk and a coward. I should have stuck up for you," Alfred said and dropped the card and candy into Matthew's bag. "Happy Valentine's Day, little brother."

A smile spread Matthew's featured as he melted away. Alfred stared around as the memory dissolved.

Next he knew, he was thrown out the door and landed on his hands and knees in the hallway of Gatwick airport. He was an adult again and back in his hospital gown.

"What the hell was that?" he said to himself.

"The past," rang a voice.

He scrambled to his feet, turning around to see his mother leaned next to that strange door. Her arms were crossed and she had a foot pressed to the wall. She smiled at him.

"You were quite the bully," she said.

"I didn't bully him," Alfred said defensively. "I just… didn't stick up for him."

"Oh? Is that how you remember it?" she mused. "Why did you hate him?"

He glared at her, hands curling into fists. "I didn't hate him. What the hell is going on here?"

"That boy…" she nodded down the hall. "If you catch him, you can go back."

"I can?" Alfred said.

"Yes. _If_ you can catch him."

"Do I have to go through more of that?" His shoulders slumped.

"Probably."

"But why?"

"Your life is flashing before your eyes, I suppose," she said with a shrug.

"That's not flashing. And why can't relive the good times, like my awesome birthday parties?" Alfred said.

She shrugged.

"I hate this place," he said. "Am I in hell? I lived a good life, well mostly. I should be going to Hero's heaven to live up it up with Hercules."

"This isn't a punishment," she said. "This is a test. Do you really want to go back?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Why? For Mattie? That boy you bullied because of jealousy? Maybe he doesn't you want to come back. Maybe he's happy you're dead."

"I don't have to listen to this! You're not real. You're just some figment in my head," Alfred said, jabbing a finger at her. Then he stormed off, refusing to look back.

Before he went around the corner she called, "You're lying to yourself! No one will care if you die!"

Alfred took off, needing escape from her words that stabbed like a knife to the heart.

It isn't true! he told himself. His family did love him. Matthew and he settled their feud long ago.

After running for several minutes, he stopped and leaned heavily against a wall to catch his breath. Who knew you could get winded in a dream?

It was true that he and Matthew hated each other as young kids, but siblings fight. They worked it out. It was in the past. Alfred had outgrown that behavior and would never do that now.

He looked up and peaking from around a corner twenty feet away was an older form of that boy. This time he was dressed in a black T-shirt with the Batman movie logo on the front and ripped jeans and red sneakers.

"Again?" Alfred groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's just get this shit over with."

He followed his twelve year old self.

Alfred ran, legs pumping. It started to rain, like the sky ripped open, drops pelted him. He kept running through the forest, ignoring the branches that snagged at his T-shirt and jeans.

"Git! Wait a moment!" An accented voice called.

It was only when Alfred's foot snagged on a root and he felt hard in a puddle in an open, grassy field that he was forced to stop and look back. The other boy was older and wore jeans and a green hoodie that matched his emerald-green eyes. Thick eyebrows roofed his round eyes that were wide with hurt.

"Just let me explain." He wheezed, sounding out of breath. His brown vest and slacks were soaked through.

"I've nothing to say to you," Alfred snapped, droplets falling in his mouth as he spoke. He wiped the rain out of his eyes. "You're no friend of mine! You're no one to me! I hate you, Arthur Kirkland! I never want to see you again!"

And from how Arthur's face shattered with hurt and how he slumped to his knees, tears filling his eyes, Alfred wished he could take back the words, that he could stop himself.

"You don't meant that," Arthur said. "You're speaking without thinking. That's what you always do."

"Not this time," Alfred said, hands balling in fists. Rain ran in tracks down his face, masking his tears.

It was like a floodgate had opened in him and more anger tumbled out. It was like a demon had invaded Alfred's mouth.

Arthur wept as Alfred called him a traitor and declared he didn't need Arthur or anyone. He was independent, and someone like Arthur was just an annoyance to him.

The words came and came like an eruption of hate. This time he could not do the right thing. This time the memory ended and Alfred felt hard back onto the tiled floor of London, Gatwick, weeping for the hurtful words he had said, for the pain he had caused.

He couldn't even remember why he said them. He had forgotten about that day and Arthur. He had forgotten about Arthur on his knees in the rain, but he had never forgotten about the pain.

He had run away that day, planning to hitchhike on the trains and live like a Boxcar Kid. When the police and his family finally found him a week later, Arthur and his mother were gone. Their house was empty. He never saw nor heard from Arthur again after that.

"Still think you're a hero?" the mother figure asked with amusement.

This time Alfred had nothing to say to her. He didn't look at her, but rose in a defeated way and continued his journey.

"You won't like the next one ~" she called in a sing-song way. "It's the worst of them all."

* * *

TBC in… "The Tragedy of Alfred Jones Pt. 3"

Sorry! This chapter got bigger than I meant. The Ivan stuff is for sure in the next chapter.

* * *

 **Note:** I felt it would be very _Alfred_ , if, when trapped in a strange purgatory-like dream dimension, the first thing he looked for was a McDonalds. You know, _priorities_ … Happy Meal Priorities…

* * *

Does anyone remember the Boxcar Kids?


	43. Part 3

**Note:** So sorry this took so long! I found this chapter really hard to write. I'm sorry if the material is unpleasant in the beginning. I tried to elude to what Alfred witnessed as a small child without being too obvious.

* * *

 **The Tragedy of Alfred Jones Pt. 3**

* * *

Water overflowed over the lip of the bathtub and oozed across the dark blue tiles of the floor, shifting a razor blade reddened with blood, before reaching the hallway where it soaked the carpet and the bottoms of Alfred's Cowboy PJs.

Alfred's heart pounded; he clutched his stuffed whale closer until the plastic eye dug painfully into his chin. He remembered this. This was the nightmare he put away into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind.

Everything was the same. This was the day he started to fear ghosts.

His mouth felt dry, tongue scraping against the roof as he tried to find moisture. He stared at the cornflower-blue curtain hiding the tub's lone occupant like a shroud. A body was slumped, the shape of the head bending the plastic outwards and one harm hung limply, lower enough to be visible beneath the end of the curtain. Pink nails dripping with blood swayed back and forth above the soaked tiles.

Mommy had promised to take a short bath.

" _Al?_ " a voice said from his left. "Al?"

He tore his gaze away, neck moving slowly to see Matthew staring at him while wearing Maple Leaf Pajamas and holding a polar bear plush toy. Afternoon sunlight lit part of the hall and silhouetted Matthew.

Matthew glanced at the spreading dark stain of dampness on the red carpet and asked sleepily, "What's going on?"

Alfred swallowed hard, then ducked into the bathroom door. He shut it and locked it behind himself, hugging his whale plush toy tighter until he was sure it would burst.

"Al? Open the door!" Matthew called, turning the brass knob. "What're you doing? Turn of the water."

Salty tears ran into Alfred's mouth. A hiccup escaped him as shook his head. He wanted to shout for Matthew to "go away", but words were bottled up in his throat.

"I'm telling mommy!" Matthew said. "Your jokes aren't funny!"

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingers into his ears while uses his elbows to hold his whale. He hummed the Star-Spangled Banner to blot out the sounds.

 _Mattie can't see. Mattie can't see._

Even if his brother hated him, Alfred had to protect Matthew from the truth. No matter what.

* * *

Alfred tumbled back into the hallway of London, Gatwick Airport, sobbing and unable to pick himself up at first. The memory sickened him.

The _click-click_ of heels forced him to glare up at his mother who regarded him with a bemused look. Her eyes looked glassy and empty.

"How could you?" he cried, springing to his feet and charging at her. He grabbed her by the front of her blouse. She lifted her chin defiantly. "You abandoned us!"

She smiled wide.

"You're a coward!" he shouted, shaking her. He blinked away tears.

"What do you know?" she asked coldly. "You were just a kid. Do you want to see what I did?"

She lifted her arms up until the sleeves fell away to reveal gaping, bloodless vertical slashes.

He let go, stepping back, unable to look at them. "How could you?"

Lowering her arms, she lifted her chin and said, "You don't know what it's like to live in hell, do you?"

"I saw you," he said, staring at the ground. "That day… I turned off the water. I saw you dead in that tub." He met her eyes slowly. "Do you know what that does to a child?"

Her smile faded. "Do you know what living in a lie does to a person?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, then he turned away. "There's not point to this. You're not really here. You're just a dream."

He started to stalk away when she called, "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"What are y—" he whipped around, but she was gone and he was suddenly a child again, running through the airport in the midst of another forgotten memory.

Adults moved and chattered around him, sometimes glancing at him. He dressed in red Superman overalls and had a _Lightening McQueen_ Happy Meal toy in his right hand.

Alfred searched and searched, turning down a fairly empty hallway to find it dead-ended in a display of potted plastic plants — the tall kind that created a perfect hiding spot. With a quick glanced over his shoulder, he dropped on all fours and crawled inside shocked to find someone already in his hideout.

The other boy sat, back to the wall and legs hugged to his chest, surprised at Alfred's entrance. The first thing Alfred noticed was the giant beige scarf the boy wore, one way too big for him, it wrapped around the lower half of his face and his entire neck five or six times. His head stuck out like a sausage trapped in the center of a pig-in-the-blanket. Or maybe a dollop of butter on top of a stack of pancakes. His pale hair looked yellow enough.

"Leave," the other boy said in a thick accent, his strange purple-blue eyes narrowed into an intimidating glare. "This is mine."

Alfred snorted, sitting back on his heels and puffing out his chest. "I don't see your name on it."

"Get out," the boy warned, shifting into a crowing position and curling his hands into fists.

Alfred refused to be intimidated.

"I'm not afraid of you. I fight for truth, justice, and the American Way. I'm the world's greatest superhero!" He jerked his thumb to his chest. "I'm Superboy!"

"Sorry, did you say _superdumb?_ "

"Superboy!"

"Supermoron?" The other boy cupped a hand around his left ear and made a show of not understanding.

"It's superboy, dumbass!"

"Well, _Superdork_ , I need this hiding place or the monster will catch me."

"Monster?" Alfred said, lifting an eyebrow. "What kind of monster?"

"One with bone-white skin and eyes that glow like opals. She's evil," the other boy said, looking away with an almost haunted expression. "No one can stop her. They call her 'General Winter'."

"I-Is…" Alfred gulped hard, trying to steady his voice, "sh-she a ghost?"

"No."

"Oh." Alfred sighed in relief. "Then it's fine. I'm really strong. Just last week I saved the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom and the month before I was the Hero of Hyrule. No monster can defeat me."

"I don't believe. And what is this _Hyrule_?"

"Really? Have you lived in a cave or what?" Alfred asked, eyebrows climbing up. "That's it. You are need. As your new best friend —"

"Friend?" The other boy interrupted, eyes widening. "You want… to be my friend."

"Yeah, like _Superfriends._ " Alfred nodded. "I'll be Superboy and you'l be… um…" he cocked his head right. "Oh! You'll be Cyborg. You're a perfect robot."

"I am?" The other boy's expression softened around his eyes and he seemed moved. He shifted to the side, opening a space for Alfred to sit. "Then, _friend_ , will you stay with me?"

"Of course!"

"Forever and always?"

"Uh… for as long as I can."

Then the boy seemed to smile, his eyes hinted at it from the crinkled that appeared around them. He looked and sounded pleased. "My first _willing_ friend."

What did that mean?

When Alfred was in reach, the boy grabbed his shoulder and yanked Alfred into sitting beside him.

"Hey!" Alfred said, trying to pry those fat fingers off, but they held onto his shoulders like talons sinking in. "Hands off, buddy!"

"Buddy?" The other boy looked misty-eyed. "We are buddies. Best buddies."

"Huh? Is your brain broken or something?" Alfred gaped.

"Do you swear to never abandon me? To stay my buddy and friend forever and ever. Until the end of time?" The boy loomed over Alfred, close enough for the fabric of his scarf to bump Alfred's noise.

Alfred pushed him away. "Back off! You're being weird. That's not how friend's make an oath."

"It's not?"

"No!" Alfred said, throwing up his hands. He moved back to sitting on his knees and raised his right. "Face me and raise your right hand."

"O-Okay." The other boy mirrored Alfred's position and they faced each other.

"Now, repeat after me, "I, Superfriend of the World's Greatest Hero, Superboy, do solemnly swear."

"I, erm… Superfriend of the World's…" he frowned and finished slowly, " _Greatest_ Hero, _Superboy_ , do solemnly swear."

"With less sarcasm."

"With less sarcasm."

"No!" Alfred snapped.

"No!" The other boy snapped.

 _He's doing it on purpose!_ Alfred rolled his eyes. "Never mind."

"Never mind."

In a tight voice, Alfred continued, "that I will uphold the most sacred oath of the Superfriends."

"That I will uphold the most sacred oath of the Superfriends."

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a thousand needles in my eyes."

"Cross my… what?" The other boy blinked in surprise.

"Just say it."

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a thousand… needles in my eyes."

"and I will never abandon my fellow Superfriend for any reason whatsoever."

"And I will never abandon my fellow Superfriend for any reason whatsoever."

Alfred cupped his left palm and spat in it, then glanced at the other boy expectantly. "Come on. Now do it in your right."

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to be friends?"

The other boy hesitantly lifted up a hand and pushed down on his scar, revealing the lower half of his round face. He had good features. His nose crinkled in disgust as he spat into his palm, careful not to get any on the scarf.

Alfred grabbed his hand, squeezing their palms together. "Now we're Spit friends for life. Sworn to defend the world from the forces of evil."

"We are?"

"Of course," Alfred said, letting go, he wiped off his palm on the leg of his pants. He sat back against the wall.

The other boy wiped off his hand on the end of the thick brown coat he wore, looking very disgusted. His scarf once more hid the bottom half of his face.

"I'm happy," the other boy said. "May I ask what you're hiding from?"

"I'm not hiding," Alfred explained. "This is a tactical retreat."

"From what?"

"My dad's friend," Alfred growled the last part. "I hate him."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to be my new mommy." The tip of a plastic leave tickled his cheek. "He and my dad are weird."

"How?" the other boy sounded puzzled.

"They do things men shouldn't do. They… kiss." Alfred gave a 'bleh'. "Only mommies and daddies should do that."

He was suddenly grabbed in a hug and pulled fiercely to the other boy's side. Despite his struggle to get free, the other boy held fast.

"What're you doing?"

"Comforting. It's what friends do. I saw that on TV."

"I don't want your comfort. I want to stay here and never be found. Then we can't go back to the US and they can get married," Alfred said. His plan was fool-proof.

"Do they have sex?"

Alfred went bright red. He gaped at the other boy. "Y-you said the _S-word!_ "

"Sex?"

"You did it again! Children aren't supposed to say that."

"Can I say fornicate?"

"What's that?"

"Sex."

"Stop saying that!" Alfred stuck his fingers in his ears and glared at the other. "I won't listen until you promise not to say that word."

The other boy rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Are you prude?"

"I don't know what that means, but no I'm not. I'm a hero!" Alfred declared, finally getting free of the other boy.

"All I wanted to say was that you should not worry. My ancestor once fornicated with a horse using a system of pulleys. People called her Catherine the Great."

"So? What's that have to do with anything?"

"If she can sleep with a horse and still be great, it seems like your dad can forni—" Alfred shot him a look, " _kiss_ a man and be okay."

"That's comfort? What's wrong with you? And why do you say adult words?"

The other boy's eyebrows went down around the sides of his eyes. "Did it not work?"

"Of course not! That's gross. No wonder you're so weird. You're great grandaddy was a horse!"

"I don't think she got pregnant. From the horse."

Alfred looked away. "You're really weird. And you talk dirty. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No. Why would I kiss my mother?"

"It's an express-shun!" Alfred said carefully, struggling to use such a big word.

"It is?"

"Why do you wear that scarf? It's way too big."

"My sister made it. I wear it when I feel lonely."

"Do you ever take it off?"

"Sometimes."

After five minutes, Alfred was bored and hungry. "I should go back."

"B-but you promised to stay. It was an oath," the other boy said. "What about your plan?"

"I'm hungry," Alfred said. "And I forgot my gameboy."

"But I like you." The other boy grabbed his wrist, preventing him from leaving.

"Like?" Alfred quirked an eyebrow. "Geez, you sound like a girl."

"You said you'd stay."

"Not here. In your heart." Alfred tabbed the tip of his forefinger to the other's chest. "Whenever you need me, I'll come in the nick of time. That's what heroes do."

"You promise?"

"I swear. We'll meet again. Do you have a Bat Signal by chance?"

"What's your name?"

"Superboy." Alfred grinned and gave a thumbs-up. "World's Greatest Superhero. What's yours? You gotta pick a good name"

"I do?" Alfred nodded. "Then… I'll be… erm… the Black Knight. That's my favorite piece."

Alfred's grin widened. "You play chess? Me too!"

"Then be my White Knight." The other boy pulled Alfred down by the wrist, one hand cupping Alfred's cheek and then planted a kiss on Alfred's cheek.

Alfred yelped, stumbling back and knocking over a plant. He grabbed his cheek.

"Are you crazy? Who said you can do that? What if I'm infected with cooties for life?"

"Then you'll have to find me for the cure," the other boy said.

"You're weird!" Alfred said before taking off to wiped off his cheek with several paper towels and layers of soap in the restroom.

* * *

Alfred was an adult again in an empty airport, standing at a departure gate. His mother stood behind the desk, holding out a boarding pass.

"Final boarding call for Alfred F. Jones," she said. "Flight 50 to the Other Side."

The number thirteen loomed above the gate.

"I'm not going. I'm going back to my family," Alfred said. "To everyone."

The ceiling and floor began dissolving around them in flecks that floated upwards and disintegrated.

"Are you sure? They'll be fine without you."

"No," he cupped the cheek that the boy that he now realized was Ivan had kissed, "they won't."

She began to dissolve before him.

"Mom," he said, stepping forward, but she stepped out of reach.

"When you see your father, tell him," a tear slipped down her cheek, "It wasn't his fault."

And the world fell apart.

* * *

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

Alfred cracked open his eyes, squinting at the grey sunlight of an early morning. His head hurt and it was hard to move, as if his head were wrapped in a cast.

It took him a moment to realize it was. He glanced to his left, shocked to see his dad, Tino, slumped in a chair by his hospital bed, deep asleep.

"D…dad.." Alfred croaked, mouth feeling fulling of sandpaper. He reached out, wanting his father to hear him.

There was a squeal, followed by a splat. He looked at the doorway to see a stunned Matthew with his hands covering his mouth as he stared at Alfred. He had dropped a paper cup of water on the floor — the source of the splat.

Matthew's eyes blurred with tears.

"Ma…ttie?"

"Thank God," Matthew said, running over to embrace Alfred. "Finally."

"Mattie, listen," Alfred wheezed. He struggled to speak above a whisper, but his voice became stronger the more he spoke. "I had the strangest dream."

"Tell me later. I want to enjoy this moment," Matthew said.

They remained like that for a long time.

* * *

It had been two weeks since that day and Ivan had not left his home. He hardly shaved or cared about anything anymore. Over and over he regretted what had had done. He had abandoned Alfred.

If he had not arrived in the nick of time, that low-life piece of trash would have stomped on his Sunflower's face. There was a blackout between that moment and calling 911. Somewhere in that empty space of time Ivan had beaten Alfred's attackers to within an inch of their lives, the ones that did not escape.

He remembered cradling Alfred and applying pressure to his head wound. Apologies had poured out.

He didn't care about the scandal. His mother's legal team ate scandals for breakfast, but the couldn't bring back Alfred.

For the first time in his life he had done something he truly regretted.

Around two pm, his phone rang.

There must have been another blackout because suddenly Ivan found himself dressed and climbing out the window to steal one of his servant's cars and make his way to the hospital. His mother's guards would not stop him.

He had to see it with his own eyes. He had to see his Alfred. Just one more time.

* * *

 **TBC…** He's back! Now for the fall out.

* * *

 **Note #1** — Thank you all so much for the 21 comments the last chapter received. I worried about the opening of this chapter.

* * *

 **Note #2 —** This story is over a year and a half old. So many have stood by it and remained loyal readers. It blows my mind and keeps me writing.


	44. Confrontation

Notes: Sorry again for the long, long break. I moved and couldn't find anything for the first month. Then I got sick. One thing after another. Just crazy. But things are back on track again. Let's finish the story.

I have not given up on this! We are almost 80% finished and I will complete this story.

* * *

 **Confrontation**

* * *

Alfred woke, hand shooting out by instinct to grab the Call-Nurse button dangling from the steel railing of the bed. The room was dark, the only light came between the white curtains that hid the cityscape and the open doorway that led into the hallway. He could hear Bruno, the male nurse, tapping at his computer in the Nurse's Station.

Alfred's thumb hovered over the button that would summon burly Bruno here, the man who forced Alfred to swallow foul-tasting medicine and was none-too-kind with injections.

In this moment Bruno was better than _alone_.

Something wasn't right.

Alfred breathed in deeply and exhaled, trying to calm down. He pushed off his elbows, using his weakened muscles to sit up.

 _See? No one there._ He told himself.

Matthew and his fathers were home. No one was hiding in the thick shadows, no one that Alfred could see.

He reached over to the bedside table, wincing in pain as he used his right arm, the one hooked to the IV bag via a needle, and fumbled around until he found his glasses. He briefly looked away to put them on, and when he did Alfred was no longer _alone._

A tall, shadowy figure loomed in the doorway, one dressed in an overcoat and thick scarf.

Alfred swallowed hard, heart pumping hard.

"I-Ivan?" he breathed, feeling petrified with fear.

Fear wasn't in his nature. He was the Hero! Yet his body would not move.

Ivan hovered in the doorway, holding a faucet-pipe with the curved end pointed at the floor. Alfred's eyes widened, noticing the dark liquid dripping from the end of the pipe to pool on the tiled floor by Ivan's shoe.

 _Blood._

Alfred jammed his thumb into the Call-Nurse button and opened his mouth to shout to Bruno, but suddenly Ivan was over him, muffling his cry with one hand while the other raised the pipe overhead. Alfred fought, clawing at Ivan's coat sleeves, gazed glued to the pipe.

"No escape," said a hollowed voice that sounded nothing like Ivan's.

Then the pipe crashed down between Alfred's eyes, caving in his skull and splattering his blood and brains across the bed and wall.

* * *

"No!" Alfred cried as he woke, flailing in his hospital bed.

He trembled, still gripped in that nightmare. Slowly he calmed, reminding himself it was only a bad dream. One he had been repeating since waking from his coma three days ago. Every night he dreamed Ivan came to his hospital room and bludgeoned him to death with a faucet pipe.

 _Why?_

He pushed the button to raise his bed to sitting, then reached over for his paper cup of water and downed it. The water was room temperature, but still refreshing. Alfred would have given his right arm for a cola, or better yet a hamburger.

The only thing that changed in the dream was what Ivan said. Last night it had been, "Tick-Tock, Mr. Jones," and the night before had been, "The mouse ran up the clock." None of them sounded like things Ivan would say, at least the Ivan that Alfred knew.

Was he scared subconsciously that Ivan would hurt him when they broke up? And they would break up. Alfred was sure of that. He just needed the coward to show up.

Alfred set the cup down, not wanting to think about Ivan. That bastard had caused him nothing but problems. He hated him. He really did. So why did he feel so sad at the thought of breaking up?

 _He's creepy and evil_ , Alfred told himself.

Damn his heroic nature and need to save people, even the villains. This was why Superman never killed Lex Luthor.

He wished Matthew could visit more, but his brother had been working double-shifts since Alfred's coma. His brother had mentioned "help" being hired, but would not say who and blushed at the mention of this "help" which made Alfred more suspicious.

Alfred needed to get out of here. No one would tell him what was going on. They all "forgot" their phones and the TV only had Disney and Kids' channels.

"You shouldn't overwhelm yourself", they said.

They were hiding something. Worst of all, Alfred had missed Christmas in his coma, the greatest of all holidays after Independence Day. It would be New Year's soon.

And where was Ivan? Off stalking someone else?

Alfred frowned at the thought.

He glanced at the door that was halfway closed unlike in the dream. Listening for signs of Bruno, Alfred carefully pulled back his blanket and placed his bare feet on the cold tiles. The nurses hated him attempting to do sit-ups or muscle exercises. They said he would hurt himself, but Alfred needed to get back to his old self. He needed a physical trainer to monitor him, which was ridiculous!

Alfred knew his body better. He knew his limits.

He had to recover, then find Ivan and kick his sorry ass.

He paused, glancing at the shelf above his bed, one full of "Get-Well" soon cards, stuffed animals and flowers. There was a pot of tulips there now, one that hadn't been there yesterday. It had a fancy silk bow tied to the front.

Who left that?

He studied the shadows, sure he was alone. So why didn't he feel alone?

* * *

"You fell out of bed again?" Tino said, barging into the room without so much as a knock.

"Good morning," Alfred said, pausing his tetris game. He adjusted his head bandage which had slipped forward again.

Tino scowled, or "pouted". His soft face could not look stern, just like Tino could looked more cuddly than intimidating. The giant Moomin shopping bag he gripped with the tail of Alfred's stuffed whale from home did not help.

"You!" Tino said, plopping the bag on Alfred's bedside. "Listen to the nurses. You just woke from a coma and survived a head injury that almost killed you! Stop being stubborn. What were you thinking?"

"He wasn't," a soft, _familiar_ voice said.

"Mattie?" Alfred glanced around. "You came."

"Here, Al," Matthew said, stepping out from behind Tino to stand by the bed. "You just noticed I was here?"

"Man, you are a Hide'N'Seek master," Alfred said. "We could never play that game because you always won."

Matthew did not look amused. He crossed his arms. From the opening in his red and white Maple jacket peeked his Pancake Factory uniform.

"Did you get off work or something? It's morning," Alfred asked.

"No, I'm going to work at lunch."

"Today?" Alfred said in shock, then asked, "What is today?"

Matthew groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose, before answering, "Thursday, Al."

"Don't you have school?"

"How hard did you hit your head? It's winter holidays, remember?" Matthew said.

"I can't believe I missed Christmas." Alfred set down his game boy, flopping back in the bed. "No Christmas pancakes. No McDonald's Christmas special."

"There is no… never mind. How are you feeling?" Matthew asked.

"Ready to be overwhelmed," Alfred said. "What happened while I was out? I know you're holding back."

Tino and Matthew shared a worried glance. Then Tino leaned forward, fiddling with the railing. "Let's talk to the doctor's tomorrow morning and see what he says first."

"Would stop babying me," Alfred grumbled. "By the way, Mattie. How is the 'help' at work?"

"Oh… um…" Matthew went bright red and looked away. "Very good."

"Anyone I know?"

"Well… um… the boss hired him."

"Is it that Iceland guy?" But Matthew wouldn't blush over him.

"Look at all we brought. We got your favorite comics," Matthew said quickly, grabbing the Moomin bag and pulling stuff out to hold up. "Your Whale."

"I am not a kid." Alfred took his Whale quickly, giving him a hug. "But he helps wit bad dreams."

"Did you have another nightmare?" Tino asked with concern.

"No," Alfred lied. Matthew quirked an eyebrow. "All right, but different. A… um… hamburger ate me. It was horrible. Worst dream ever. Speaking of hamburgers, what does a hero gotta do to get one?"

"Recover!" they said in unison, glancing in surprise at their perfect timing.

"I'd do that if if the nurses let me do my squats."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Your muscles are weakened. It's amazing your still in good enough shape to stand."

"You'll hurt yourself pushing things."

Alfred tried not to roll his eyes as he got a double-scolding from Matthew and Tino. Those two could be such nags. They never appreciated Alfred's heroics. A ticker-tape parade would have been a better reaction.

"You should listen to your family," a third voice called from the doorway. Matthew and Tino glanced behind and then stepped apart, revealing Ivan standing in the doorway. "After all, family knows best."

Ivan stood in an overcoat and scarf. Blood spots dotted his front and forehead. A large drying splatter glistened in a patch of his pale-blond hair above his right ear. A dead smile stretched his lips from end to end. In his right hand he held a faucet-pipe that dripped blood and human goo onto the floor. His cold, violet eyes promised _murder_.

"Al? Al?" Alfred jumped when Matthew touched his shoulder, gaze jumping to his very worried-looking brother. "Are you okay?"

Alfred realized his whole body had tensed up and he was crushing Whale to his chest. His gaze went back to the doorway to see that it was _not_ Ivan, but Eduard standing in the doorway. Eduard stood in the exact same pose as Ivan had in the dream, leaning on his cane. He had a soft smile that looked friendly, but never touched his eyes. He was dressed in a crisp, dark blue suit and wine-red necktie. He held a paper bag in his other hand with a satin bow stuck to the front.

With a hard swallow, Alfred forced his body to relax.

 _No escape. Tick-tock, Mr. Jones. The mouse ran up the clock._

"Should I get the nurse?" Tino asked.

"I-I'm fine," Alfred said, forcing on a grin. He felt dizzy. Did he just hallucinate? Why did he see Eduard as Ivan?

"Did I come at a bad time?" Eduard asked.

"No, it's fine. Al's still recovering though," Tino said. "Please come in."

Alfred rubbed at his forearms, trying to make the goosebumps go away. What was wrong with him? It was just Eduard. Why did he feel like his nightmare had just entered his room?

"Eduard's been so kind and let me leave work a lot to see you. He's asked all the time how you were doing?" Tino said.

"I also went through a trauma when I was Alfred's age," Eduard said, tapping his cane on the floor for emphasis. "I lost the ability to run, among other _things_."

Eduard's pleasant smile grew as he stood by Alfred's bedside, and Alfred watched him warily. He could not help it. His Spiderman sense's were screaming at him, 'danger'.

 _Stop being dumb, body_. Alfred scolded himself. This was perfectly-pleasant Eduard who meant no harm.

Alfred flinched when Eduard held out the paper bag and said, "Surprise! We made cookies!"

"No!" Alfred blurted out. His face warmed and he asked, "We?"

"Me and Tino," Eduard said. "I let him use the company kitchen."

"It was so sweet. I loved baking again in a proper, working oven," Tino said.

"It might not be hamburgers, but your Sweet Tooth will love them," Matthew added.

"Can I eat them?"

"Well," Tino said, "We haven't asked the doctor, but a few won't hurt."

Alfred swallowed hard, taking the bag. They smelled good. He opened the bag to see dozens of cookies inside — chocolate chip, white chocolate, and macadamia.

"What do we say, Al?"

"Thank you," Alfred said, closing the bag. "I'll eat them later."

"Wow… my brother turning down cookies." Matthew reached around and placed a palm on Alfred's forehead. "You must be hurt."

"Stop that," Alfred said, pushed Matthew's hand away. "I'm right as rain, I tell ya. I'm just not hungry right now."

"Did you… see anything when you almost died?" Eduard asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Like what? A tunnel of light?"

"Why are you asking about that?" Matthew said, glancing at Eduard.

"I… had a dream," Alfred said. They all stared at him in interest. He had been meaning to tell Matthew and Tino about it, yet now he found he could not. Each day he forgot a little more.

"About what?" Tino asked.

 _About mom_ , Alfred wanted to say.

"About London, Gatwick airport."

"The airport? You dreamed about an airport," Matthew said.

"Yeah, it was a silly dream," Alfred said.

"My grandmother believed," Eduard began, "that people who have a near-death experience sometimes bring something back with them."

Matthew chuckled. "Like what? The Sixth Sense?"

"I don't want to see ghosts!" Alfred gasped, grabbed Matthew forearm. "I'd die. Please say I'm not psychic."

"You're not psychic," Matthew said, trying to pry Alfred's fingers off. "It was a joke."

"But maybe I am psychic. I watched those movies!"

"This wasn't a good topic, let's switch to something more pleasant," Tino said with a nervous laugh.

"You're right. I shouldn't have brought it up," Eduard said. "I'm a bit fascinated with those stories about near-death experiences. I let my curiosity overcome my judgement."

"Oh God, what if I see the future now? Do you think I got superpowers?" Alfred said. "What if I see a future without hamburgers? That'd be worse a zombie apocalypse."

"That's ridiculous."

"Or a future without pancakes and maple syrups."

"Stop scaring me, Al," Matthew said.

"Enough," Tino said. "Let's enjoy the cookies and talk about happy things."

Eduard pushed up his glasses as he said, "You're absolutely right. However, I need head back to the office. I'll leave you to catch up."

"On winter vacation?"

"I like work," Eduard said, giving Alfred a look-over before turning to leave. "I dropped by to greet you. I'm glad you're doing better. I wish you a speedy recovery."

"Thank you," Alfred said.

Tino followed Eduard out with a "I'll be right back."

Alfred listened to the tap of the cane as they went further and further down the hall. And that unpleasant feeling faded, like a dark energy had left the room.

"He seems nice," Matthew said. "Dad has never been happier."

"How are we affording this?" Alfred asked, waving at the hospital room. "How much medical debt is this?"

"Don't worry, Al. It's all been taken care of," Matthew said.

"By who?" Alfred asked. "By Ivan? That bastard abandoned me."

"I'm not supposed to talk about this," Matthew said.

"Why not? What is the big secret?"

Matthew bit his lip. "Can you just trust us? We tell you everything when you're ready."

"I'm ready now."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "I want to know now."

"Stop being impatient."

"I hate secrets."

"Then why didn't you tell me you were being bullied?" Matthew asked. "Why did you keep that secret?"

"Ah, you found out."

"It's been hell, Al. Hell. Two weeks of not-knowing," Matthew said. "So you can deal with a few more days of being not knowing. It won't kill you."

Matthew's face reddened with rage and his lower puffed up. They stared at each other.

"Please," Matthew said, softening.

"Fiiine," Alfred grumbled. "I don't understand the big deal, but fiiiiiiine. But at least tell me who our boss hired."

Matthew went bright red, then shrank back, twiddling his thumbs. "Now… don't get upset, but…"

Alfred did not like where this was going.

* * *

At some point around 1 am, Alfred woke to a dark figure looming over him, shaking him by the shoulders as they said, "Sunflower. Sunflower."

 _Ivan!_ _It's the nightmare!_

Alfred opened his mouth to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over it.

"Shh… don't be afraid," Ivan said in a low voice, glancing over his shoulder at the door.

Alfred thrashed and grabbed for the Call-Nurse button, but Ivan used his free hand to pin Alfred's wrist down.

"Calm down," Ivan warned.

Alfred panicked, biting at Ivan's palm and trying to push him off. Ivan was going to bludgeon him to death!

"I won't hurt you," Ivan said. "I wanted to come sooner, but my mother's guards have kept me away. I escaped tonight."

Alfred stilled, breathing through his nose as he studied this shadowy Ivan. This one had no pipe, and he sounded… concerned. Was this the real Ivan?

 _No escape. Tick-tock, Mr. Jones._

"I will let go. Don't cry out. Do you promise?"

Alfred nodded and Ivan released him.

"You son of a bitch," Alfred said, pushing himself up to sitting. "I should kick your ass. You left me for dead to a mob!"

"It was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Alfred laughed bitterly. "Dating you was a mistake. Trusting you was a _mistake_."

"I… am sorry."

Alfred gaped. He had to be dreaming. Ivan did not apologize. This could not be real.

"And I thought I had the head injury."

There were sounds coming from down the hall. Sounds off footsteps.

"We don't have long," Ivan said grimly. "Because of the scandal I'm not legally allowed to see you right now."

"What are you talking about?"

 _Legally allowed?_

"But I had to see you. I can't let you go," Ivan said. "I will right this."

Then he hugged Alfred, and Alfred didn't resist. For all his anger, he kept remembering that dream of the two of them in the airport. He remembered Ivan abandoning him. He remembered kissing Ivan. He remembered everything. A confusion of emotions muddled his judgement.

What did he want?

And he knew the answer. He wanted this moment in Ivan's arms to last forever, despite everything.

"You're really here," Alfred said, returning the hug. Bitter tears stung his eyes. "You came back."

Then they took Ivan away.

* * *

Alfred was an idiot, Eduard concluded.

Eduard felt sick as he listened to their interaction through the listening device he had planted in the tulip pot he had placed in Alfred's room. He had been excited to realize Ivan had sneaked into Alfred's room.

He had eagerly hoped for Alfred to shatter Ivan's blackened heart like the monster deserved. And what did he get, 'You're really here'.

 _Sickening_.

He wishes Alfred had died. That would have been better.

He leaned back in his leather chair, remembering when the rock he _threw_ hit Alfred in the back of the head. Eduard had been there, whipping up the mob. He had been in disguise with a wig and prosthetics, but he had been there with a couple other plants.

He had arranged everything. A chant here and there could whip a mob. People were so easily manipulated by peer pressure. Sheep ready to burn the "witch". And Alfred had been that witch.

Eduard had only meant to have Alfred beaten up, but then he nearly died. Even better.

The sight of Ivan kneeled over an unconscious and bleeding Alfred had been glorious.

Now Ivan's family was embroiled in scandal, as was the whole school because _someone_ recorded everything that happened and posted it online. Someone leaked to the media about a rich kids' school where violent bullying was an accepted fact. Of course, all the upper class families were working to have it shut down.

But Eduard wouldn't let that happen. This time they would pay for their elitist sins.

But it wasn't enough. Eduard needed more. He needed to carve his name into Ivan's skull. Or maybe beat it in with Ivan's faucet pipe. The one the man had carried around like a club when he red-carded others.

Soon. Everything would happen soon.

Eduard had the right; he was the _victim_ in all this.

This was justice.

* * *

 **Notes:**

Sorry for the long break! Don't worry this isn't turning into a horror story.

The next update is about Matthew and what happened to him during Al's two week coma. I think you'll enjoy it a lot.

Since this story is long I may have to fix the timeline at some point. Things are a little skewed in the dates since this was written with an outline more than a chapter by chapter synopsis.

The timeline may be off for this story, but I'll fix that later. When I finish I'll need to go back and fix certain plot mistakes or things that got changed in later chapters. Feel free to point stuff out if you notice so I can work it out later.

Best wishes on a happy 2018 everyone ~


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